>E    LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
"ViAR  23  '; 


X  Z-2 


NATURAL   HISTORY   OF 
INTELLECT 

AND    OTHER  PAPERS 


BY 


RALPH   WALDO    EMERSON 


WITH  A    GENERAL  INDEX   TO  EMERSON'S 
COLLECTED    WORKS 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1893 


OF  rut 
BHIVEB81T* 


Copyright,  1893, 
BY  EDWARD  W.  EMERSON. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghtoii  and  Company. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


THE  first  two  pieces  in  this  volume  are  lectures 
from  the  "  University  Courses  "  on  philosophy, 
given  at  Harvard  College  in  1870  and  1871, 
by  persons  not  members  of  the  Faculty.  "  The 
Natural  History  of  the  Intellect "  was  the  subject 
which  Emerson  chose.  He  had,  from  his  early 
youth,  cherished  the  project  of  a  new  method 
in  metaphysics,  proceeding  by  observation  of  the 
mental  facts,  without  attempting  an  analysis  and 
coordination  of  them  which  must,  from  the  nature 
of  the  case,  be  premature.  With  this  view,  he 
had,  at  intervals  from  1848  to  1866,  announced 
courses  on  the  "Natural  History  of  Intellect," 
"The  Natural  Method  of  Mental  Philosophy," 
and  "  Philosophy  for  the  People."  He  would,  he 
said,  give  anecdotes  of  the  spirit,  a  calendar  of 
mental  moods,  without  any  pretence  of  system. 

None  of  these  attempts,  however,  disclosed  any 
novelty  of  method,  or  indeed,  after  the  opening 


IV  PREFATORY  NOTE. 

statement  of  his  intention,  any  marked  difference 
from  his  ordinary  lectures.  He  had  always  been 
writing  anecdotes  of  the  spirit,  and  those  which 
he  wrote  under  this  heading  were  used  by  him 
in  subsequently  published  essays  so  largely  that  I 
find  very  little  left  for  present  publication.  The 
lecture  which  gives  its  name  to  the  volume  was 
the  first  of  the  earliest  course,  and  it  seems  to  me 
to  include  all  that  distinctly  belongs  to  the  par 
ticular  subject. 

The  lecture  on  "  Memory  "  is  from  the  same 
course ;  that  on  "  Boston "  from  the  course  on 
"  Life  and  Literature,"  in  1861.  The  other  pieces 
are  reprints  from  the  "  North  American  Keview  " 
and  the  "Dial." 

To  this  final  volume  of  Mr.  Emerson's  writings, 
an  index  to  all  the  volumes  has  been  appended. 
It  was  prepared  by  Professor  John  H.  Woods, 
of  Jacksonville,  Illinois,  but  has  undergone  some 
alterations  for  which  he  is  not  responsible. 

J.  E.  CABOT. 

September  9, 1893. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT 1 

MEMOKY 61 

BOSTON 83 

MICHAEL  ANGELO 113 

MILTON 143 

PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL 175 

I.    Thoughts  on  Modern  Literature    ....  177 
II.   Walter  Savage  Landor       .         .         .         .  „     .      201 

III.  Prayers          ...  ....  212 

IV.  Agriculture  of  Massachusetts     ....       219 
V.   Europe  and  European  Books          ....  225 

VI.   Past  and  Present 237 

VII.    A  Letter 249 

VIII.   The  Tragic .260 

GENERAL  INDEX 273 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 


KUHIVEB 
\5^uro| 
NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 


1  HAVE  used  such  opportunity  as  I  have  had, 
and  lately 1  in  London  and  Paris,  to  attend  scien 
tific  lectures ;  and  in  listening  to  Richard  Owen's 
masterly  enumeration  of  the  parts  and  laws  of  the 
human  body,  or  Michael  Faraday's  explanation  of 
magnetic  powers,  or  the  botanist's  descriptions,  one 
could  not  help  admiring  the  irresponsible  security 
and  happiness  of  the  attitude  of  the  naturalist ; 
sure  of  admiration  for  his  facts,  sure  of  their  suf 
ficiency.  They  ought  to  interest  you ;  if  they  do 
not,  the  fault  lies  with  you. 

Then  I  thought  —  could  not  a  similar  enumera 
tion  be  made  of  the  laws  and  powers  of  the  Intel 
lect,  and  possess  the  same  claims  on  the  student  ? 
Could  we  have,  that  is,  the  exhaustive  accuracy  of 
distribution  which  chemists  use  in  their  nomencla 
ture  and  anatomists  in  their  descriptions,  applied 
to  a  higher  class  of  facts ;  to  those  laws,  namely, 
which  are  common  to  chemistry,  anatomy,  astron- 

i  1850. 


4  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

oiny,  geometry,  intellect,  morals,  and  social  life ;  - — 
laws  of  the  world  ? 

Why  not?  These  powers  and  laws  are  also 
facts  in  a  Natural  History.  They  also  are  objects 
of  science,  and  may  be  numbered  and  recorded, 
like  stamens  and  vertebrae.  At  the  same  time 
they  have  a  deeper  interest,  as  in  the  order  of 
nature  they  lie  higher  and  are  nearer  to  the  mys 
terious  seat  of  power  and  creation. 

For  at  last,  it  is  only  that  exceeding  and  univer 
sal  part  which  interests  us,  when  we  shall  read  in 
a  true  history  what  befalls  in  that  kingdom  where 
a  thousand  years  is  as  one  day,  and  see  that  what 
is  set  down  is  true  through  all  the  sciences ;  in  the 
laws  of  thought  as  well  as  of  chemistry. 

In  all  sciences  the  student  is  discovering  that 
nature,  as  he  calls  it,  is  always  working,  in  wholes 
and  in  every  detail,  after  the  laws  of  the  human 
mind.  Every  creation,  in  parts  or  in  particles,  is 
on  the  method  and  by  the  means  which  our  mind 
approves  as  soon  as  it  is  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  facts  ;  hence  the  delight.  No  matter  how 
far  or  how  high  science  explores,  it  adopts  the 
method  of  the  universe  as  fast  as  it  appears ;  and 
this  discloses  that  the  mind  as  it  opens,  the  mind 
as  it  shall  be,  comprehends  and  works  thus ;  that 
is  to  say,  the  Intellect  builds  the  universe  and  is 
the  key  to  all  it  contains.  It  is  not  then  cities  or 


NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.  5 

mountains,  or  animals,  or  globes  that  any  longer 
command  us,  but  only  man ;  not  the  fact  but  so 
much  of  man  as  is  in  the  fact. 

In  astronomy,  vast  distance,  but  we  never  go  into 
a  foreign  system.  In  geology,  vast  duration,  but  we 
are  never  strangers.  Our  metaphysic  should  be 
able  to  follow  the  flying  force  through  all  trans 
formations,  and  name  the  pair  identical  through 
all  variety. 

I  believe  in  the  existence  of  the  material  world 
as  the  expression  of  the  spiritual  or  the  real,  and 
in  the  impenetrable  mystery  which  hides  (and 
hides  through  absolute  transparency)  the  mental 
nature,  I  await  the  insight  which  our  advancing 
knowledge  of  material  laws  shall  furnish. 

Every  object  in  nature  is  a  word  to  signify  some 
fact  in  the  mind.  But  when  that  fact  is  not  yet 
put  into  English  words,  when  I  look  at  the  tree  or 
the  river  and  have  not  yet  definitely  made  out 
what  they  would  say  to  me,  they  are  by  no  means 
unimpressive.  I  wait  for  them,  I  enjoy  them  be 
fore  they  yet  speak.  I  feel  as  if  I  stood  by  an 
ambassador  charged  with  the  message  of  his  king, 
which  he  does  not  deliver  because  the  hour  when 
he  should  say  it  is  not  yet  arrived. 

Whilst  we  converse  with  truths  as  thoughts, 
they  exist  also  as  plastic  forces ;  as  the  soul  of  a 
man,  the  soul  of  a  plant,  the  genius  or  constitution 


6  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

of  any  part  of  nature,  which  makes  it  what  it  is. 
The  thought  which  was  in  the  world,  part  and 
parcel  of  the  world,  has  disengaged  itself  and  taken 
an  independent  existence. 

My  belief  in  the  use  of  a  course  on  philosophy 
is  that  the  student  shall  learn  to  appreciate  the 
miracle  of  the  mind ;  shall  learn  its  subtle  but 
immense  power,  or  shall  begin  to  learn  it ;  shall 
come  to  know  that  in  seeing  and  in  no  tradition 
he  must  find  what  truth  is ;  that  he  shall  see  in  it 
the  source  of  all  traditions,  and  shall  see  each  one 
of  them  as  better  or  worse  statement  of  its  revela 
tions  ;  shall  come  to  trust  it  entirely,  as  the  only 
true ;  to  cleave  to  God  against  the  name  of  God. 
When  he  has  once  known  the  oracle  he  will  need 
no  priest.  And  if  he  finds  at  first  with  some  alarm 
how  impossible  it  is  to  accept  many  things  which 
the  hot  or  the  mild  sectarian  may  insist  on  his 
believing,  he  will  be  armed  by  his  insight  and 
brave  to  meet  all  inconvenience  and  all  resistance 
it  may  cost  him.  He  from  whose  hand  it  came 
will  guide  and  direct  it. 

Yet  these  questions  which  really  interest  men, 
how  few  can  answer.  Here  are  learned  faculties 
of  law  and  divinity,  but  would  questions  like  these 
come  into  mind  when  I  see  them?  Here  are 
learned  academies  and  universities,  yet  they  have 
not  propounded  these  for  any  prize. 


NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT.  1 

Seek  the  literary  circles,  the  stars  of  fame,  the 
men  of  splendor,  of  bon-mots,  will  they  afford  me 
satisfaction  ?  I  think  you  could  not  find  a  club  of 
men  acute  and  liberal  enough  in  the  world.  Bring 
the  best  wits  together,  and  they  are  so  impatient 
of  each  other,  so  vulgar,  there  is  so  much  more 
than  their  wit,  —  such  follies,  gluttonies,  partiali 
ties,  age,  care,  and  sleep,  that  you  shall  have  no 
academy. 

There  is  really  a  grievous  amount  of  unavail- 
ableness  about  men  of  wit.  A  plain  man  finds 
them  so  heavy,  dull  and  oppressive,  with  bad  jokes 
and  conceit  and  stupefying  individualism,  that  he 
comes  to  write  in  his  tablets,  Avoid  the  great  man 
as  one  who  is  privileged  to  be  an  unprofitable  com 
panion.  For  the  course  of  things  makes  the  schol 
ars  either  egotists  or  worldly  and  jocose.  In  so 
many  hundreds  of  superior  men  hardly  ten  or  five 
or  two  from  whom  one  can  hope  for  a  reasonable 
word. 

Go  into  the  scientific  club  and  hearken.  Each 
savant  proves  in  his  admirable  discourse  that  he 
and  he  only  knows  now  or  ever  did  know  anything 
on  the  subject :  "  Does  the  gentleman  speak  of 
anatomy  ?  Who  peeped  into  a  box  at  the  Custom 
House  and  then  published  a  drawing  of  my  rat  ?  " 
Or  is  it  pretended  discoveries  of  new  strata  that 
are  before  the  meeting  ?  This  professor  hastens  to 


8  NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

inform  us  that  he  knew  it  all  twenty  years  ago, 
and  is  ready  to  prove  that  he  knew  so  much  then 
that  all  further  investigation  was  quite  superfluous ; 
—  and  poor  nature  and  the  sublime  law,  which  is 
all  that  our  student  cares  to  hear  of,  are  quite 
omitted  in  this  triumphant  vindication. 

Was  it  better  when  we  came  to  the  philosophers, 
who  found  everybody  wrong  ;  acute  and  ingenious 
to  lampoon  and  degrade  mankind?  And  then 
was  there  ever  prophet  burdened  with  a  message 
to  his  people  who  did  not  cloud  our  gratitude  by  a 
strange  confounding  in  his  own  mind  of  private 
folly  with  his  public  wisdom  ? 

But  if  you  like  to  run  away  from  this  besetting 
sin  of  sedentary  men,  you  can  escape  all  this  insane 
egotism  by  running  into  society,  where  the  man 
ners  and  estimate  of  the  world  have  corrected  this 
folly,  and  effectually  suppressed  this  overweening 
self-conceit.  Here  each  is  to  make  room  for  others, 
and  the  solidest  merits  must  exist  only  for  the 
entertainment  of  all.  We  are  not  in  the  smallest 
degree  helped.  Great  is  the  dazzle,  but  the  gain  is 
small.  Here  they  play  the  game  of  conversation, 
as  they  play  billiards,  for  pastime  and  credit. 

Yes, 'tis  a  great  vice  in  all  countries,  the  sacrifice 
of  scholars  to  be  courtiers  and  diners-out,  to  talk 
for  the  amusement  of  those  who  wish  to  be  amused, 
though  the  stars  of  heaven  must  be  plucked  down 


NATURAL  HIS  TOE  Y  OF  INTELLECT.  9 

and  packed  into  rockets  to  this  end.  What  with 
egotism  on  one  side  and  levity  on  the  other  we 
shall  have  no  Olympus. 

But  there  is  still  another  hindrance,  namely, 
practicality.  We  must  have  a  special  talent,  and 
bring-  something  to  pass.  Ever  since  the  Norse 
heaven  made  the  stern  terms  of  admission  that  a 
man  must  do  something  excellent  with  his  hands 
or  feet,  or  with  his  voice,  eyes,  ears,  or  with  his 
whole  body,  the  same  demand  has  been  made  in 
Norse  earth. 

Yet  what  we  really  want  is  not  a  haste  to  act, 
but  a  certain  piety  toward  the  source  of  action  and 
knowledge.  In  fact  we  have  to  say  that  there  is  a 
certain  beatitude,  —  I  can  call  it  nothing  less,  —  to 
which  all  men  are  entitled,  tasted  by  them  in  dif 
ferent  degrees,  which  is  a  perfection  of  their  na 
ture,  and  to  which  their  entrance  must  be  in  every 
way  forwarded.  Practical  men,  though  they  could 
lift  the  globe,  cannot  arrive  at  this.  Something 
very  different  has  to  be  done,  —  the  availing  our 
selves  of  every  impulse  of  genius,  an  emanation  of 
the  heaven  it  tells  of,  and  the  resisting  this  con 
spiracy  of  men  and  material  things  against  the 
sanitary  and  legitimate  inspirations  of  the  intel 
lectual  nature. 

What  is  life  but  the  angle  of  vision  ?  A  man  is 
measured  by  the  angle  at  which  he  looks  at  objects. 


10         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

What  is  life  but  what  a  man  is  thinking  of  all 
day  ?  This  is  his  fate  and  his  employer.  Know 
ing  is  the  measure  of  the  man.  By  how  much  we 
know,  so  much  we  are. 

The  laws  and  powers  of  the  Intellect  have,  how 
ever,  a  stupendous  peculiarity,  of  being  at  once  ob 
servers  and  observed.  So  that  it  is  difficult  to  hold 
them  fast,  as  objects  of  examination,  or  hinder  them 
from  turning  the  professor  out  of  his  chair.  The 
wonder  of  the  science  of  Intellect  is  that  the  sub 
stance  with  which  we  deal  is  of  that  subtle  and  ac 
tive  quality  that  it  intoxicates  all  who  approach  it. 
Gloves  on  the  hands,  glass  guards  over  the  eyes, 
wire-gauze  masks  over  the  face,  volatile  salts  in  the 
nostrils,  are  no  defence  against  this  virus,  which 
comes  in  as  secretly  as  gravitation  into  and  through 
all  barriers. 

Let  me  have  your  attention  to  this  dangerous 
subject,  which  we  will  cautiously  approach  on  dif 
ferent  sides  of  this  dim  and  perilous  lake,  so  attrac 
tive,  so  delusive.  We  have  had  so  many  guides 
and  so  many  failures.  And  now  the  world  is  still 
uncertain  whether  the  pool  has  been  sounded  or 
not. 

My  contribution  will  be  simply  historical.  I 
write  anecdotes  of  the  intellect ;  a  sort  of  Farmer's 
Almanac  of  mental  moods.  I  confine  my  ambition 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         11 

to  true  reporting  of  its  play  in  natural  action, 
though  I  should  get  only  one  new  fact  in  a  year. 

I  cannot  myself  use  that  systematic  form  which 
is  reckoned  essential  in  treating  the  science  of  the 
mind.  But  if  one  can  say  so  without  arrogance, 
I  might  suggest  that  he  who  contents  himself 
with  dotting  a  fragmentary  curve,  recording  only 
what  facts  he  has  observed,  without  attempting  to 
arrange  them  within  one  outline,  follows  a  system 
also,  —  a  system  as  grand  as  any  other,  though  he 
does  not  interfere  with  its  vast  curves  by  prema 
turely  forcing  them  into  a  circle  or  ellipse,  but  only 
draws  that  arc  which  he  clearly  sees,  or  perhaps  at 
a  later  observation  a  remote  curve  of  the  same 
orbit,  and  waits  for  a  new  opportunity,  well-assured 
that  these  observed  arcs  will  consist  with  each 
other. 

I  confess  to  a  little  distrust  of  that  completeness 
of  system  which  metaphysicians  are  apt  to  affect. 
'T  is  the  gnat  grasping  the  world.  All  these  ex 
haustive  theories  appear  indeed  a  false  and  vain  at 
tempt  to  introvert  and  analyze  the  Primal  Thought. 
That  is  up-stream,  and  what  a  stream !  Can  you 
swim  up  Niagara  Falls  ? 

We  have  invincible  repugnance  to  introversion, 
to  study  of  the  eyes  instead  of  that  which  the  eyes 
see  ;  and  the  belief  of  men  is  that  the  attempt  is  un 
natural  and  is  punished  by  loss  of  faculty.  I  share 


12        NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

the  belief  that  the  natural  direction  of  the  intellect 
ual  powers  is  from  within  outward,  and  that  just 
in  proportion  to  the  activity  of  thoughts  on  the 
study  of  outward  objects,  as  architecture,  or  farm 
ing,  or  natural  history,  ships,  animals,  chemistry,  — 
in  that  proportion  the  faculties  of  the  mind  had  a 
healthy  growth  ;  but  a  study  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion  had  a  damaging  effect  on  the  mind. 

Metaphysic  is  dangerous  as  a  single  pursuit. 
We  should  feel  more  confidence  in  the  same  results 
from  the  mouth  of  a  man  of  the  world.  The  in 
ward  analysis  must  be  corrected  by  rough  experi 
ence.  Metaphysics  must  be  perpetually  reinforced 
by  life ;  must  be  the  observations  of  a  working-man 
on  working-men ;  must  be  biography,  —  the  record 
of  some  law  whose  working  was  surprised  by  the 
observer  in  natural  action. 

I  think  metaphysics  a  grammar  to  which,  once 
read,  we  seldom  return.  'T  is  a  Manila  full  of  pep 
per,  and  I  want  only  a  teaspoonful  in  a  year.  I 
admire  the  Dutch,  who  burned  half  the  harvest  to 
enhance  the  price  of  the  remainder. 

I  want  not  the  logic  but  the  power,  if  any,  which 
it  brings  into  science  and  literature  ;  the  man  who 
can  humanize  this  logic,  these  syllogisms,  and  give 
me  the  results.  The  adepts  value  only  the  pure 
geometry,  the  aerial  bridge  ascending  from  earth  to 
heaven  with  arches  and  abutments  of  pure  reason. 


,  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         13 

I  am  fully  contented  if  you  tell  me  where  are  the 
two  termini. 

My  metaphysics  are  to  the  end  of  use.  I  wish 
to  know  the  laws  of  this  wonderful  power,  that  I 
may  domesticate  it.  I  observe  with  curiosity  its 
risings  and  settings,  illumination  and  eclipse  ;  its 
obstructions  and  its  provocations,  that  I  may  learn 
to  live  with  it  wisely,  court  its  aid,  catch  sight  of 
its  splendor,  feel  its  approach,  hear  and  save  its 
oracles  and  obey  them.  But  this  watching  of  the 
mind,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  to  see  the  me 
chanics  of  the  thing,  is  a  little  of  the  detective. 
The  analytic  process  is  cold  and  bereaving  and, 
shall  I  say  it  ?  somewhat  mean,  as  spying.  There 
is  something  surgical  in  metaphysics  as  we  treat  it. 
Were  not  an  ode  a  better  form  ?  The  poet  sees  r 
wholes  and  avoids  analysis;  the  metaphysician, 
dealing  as  it  were  with  the  mathematics  of  the 
mind,  puts  himself  out  of  the  way  of  the  inspira 
tion  ;  loses  that  which  is  the  miracle  and  creates 
the  worship. 

I  think  that  philosophy  is  still  rude  and  element 
ary.  It  will  one  day  be  taught  by  poets.  The 
poet  is  in  the  natural  attitude ;  he  is  believing ; 
the  philosopher,  after  some  struggle,  having  only 
reasons  for  believing. 

What   I   am   now   to   attempt  is  simply   some 


14         NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

sketches  or  studies  for  such  a  picture ;  Memoires 
pour  servir  toward  a  Natural  History  of  Intellect. 

First  I  wish  to  speak  of  the  excellence  of  that 
element,  and  the  great  auguries  that  come  from  it, 
notwithstanding  the  impediments  which  our  sensual 
civilization  puts  in  the  way. 

Next  I  treat  of  the  identity  of  the  thought  with 
Nature ;  and  I  add  a  rude  list  of  some  by-laws  of 
the  mind. 

Thirdly  I  proceed  to  the  fountains  of  thought  in 
Instinct  and  Inspiration,  and  I  also  attempt  to 
show  the  relation  of  men  of  thought  to  the  existing 
religion  and  civility  of  the  present  time. 

I.  We  figure  to  ourselves  Intellect  as  an  ethe 
real  sea,  which  ebbs  and  flows,  which  surges  and 
washes  hither  and  thither,  carrying  its  whole  vir 
tue  into  every  creek  and  inlet  which  it  bathes.  To* 
this  sea  every  human  house  has  a  water  front. 
But  this  force,  creating  nature,  visiting  whom  it 
will  and  withdrawing  from  whom  it  will,  making 
day  where  it  comes  and  leaving  night  when  it  de 
parts,  is  no  fee  or  property  of  man  or  angel.  It  is 
as  the  light,  public  and  entire  to  each,  and  on  the  ~fc 
same  terms. 

What  but  thought  deepens  life,  and  makes  us 
better  than  cow  or  cat  ?  The  grandeur  of  the  im 
pression  the  stars  and  heavenly  bodies  make  .on  us 


NATUEAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT.          15 

is  surely  more  valuable  than  our  exact  perception 
of  a  tub  or  a  table  on  the  ground. 

To  Be  is  the  unsolved,  unsolvable  wonder.  To 
Be,  in  its  two  connections  of  inward  and  outward, 
the  mind  and  nature.  The  wonder  subsists,  and 
age,  though  of  eternity,  could  not  approach  a  so 
lution.  But  the  suggestion  is  always  returning, 
that  hidden  source  publishing  at  once  our  being 
and  that  it  is  the  source  of  outward  nature.  Who 
are  we  and  what  is  Nature  have  one  answer  in  the 
life  that  rushes  into  us. 

In  my  thought  I  seem  to  stand  on  the  bank  of  a 
river  and  watch  the  endless  flow  of  the  stream, 
floating  objects  of  all  shapes,  colors  and  natures  ; 
nor  can  I  much  detain  them  as  they  pass,  except  by 
running  beside  them  a  little  way  along  the  bank. 
But  whence  they  come  or  whither  they  go  is  not 
told  me.  Only  I  have  a  suspicion  that,  as  geolo 
gists  say  every  river  makes  its  own  valley,  so  does 
this  mystic  stream.  It  makes  its  valley,  makes  its 
banks  and  makes  perhaps  the  observer  too.  Who 
has  found  the  boundaries  of  human  intelligence  ? 
Who  has  made  a  chart  of  its  channel  or  approached 
the  fountain  of  this  wonderful  Nile  ? 

I  am  of  the  oldest  religion.  Leaving  aside  the 
question  which  was  prior,  egg  or  bird,  I  believe  the 
mind  is  the  creator  of  the  world,  and  is  ever  creat 
ing  ;  —  that  at  last  Matter  is  dead  Mind ;  that 


16         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

mind  makes  the  senses  it  sees  with ;  that  the 
genius  of  man  is  a  continuation  of  the  power  that 
made  him  and  that  has  not  done  making  him. 

I  dare  not  deal  with  this  element  in  its  pure 
essence.  It  is  too  rare  for  the  wings  of  words. 
Yet  I  see  that  Intellect  is  a  science  of  degrees, 
and  that  as  man  is  conscious  of  the  law  of  vege 
table  and  animal  nature,  so  he  is  aware  of  an  Intel 
lect  which  overhangs  his  consciousness  like  a  sky, 
of  degree  above  degree,  of  heaven  within  heaven. 

Every  just  thinker  has  attempted  to  indicate 
these  degrees,  these  steps  on  the  heavenly  stair, 
until  he  comes  to  light  where  language  fails  him. 
Above  the  thought  is  the  higher  truth,  —  truth  as 
yet  undomesticated  and  therefore  unformulated. 

It  is  a  steep  stair  down  from  the  essence  of  In 
tellect  pure  to  thoughts  and  intellections.  As  the 
sun  is  conceived  to  have  made  our  system  by  hurl 
ing  out  from  itself  the  outer  rings  of  diffuse  ether 
which  slowly  condensed  into  earths  and  moons,  by 
a  higher  force  of  the  same  law  the  mind  detaches 
minds,  and  a  mind  detaches  thoughts  or  intellec 
tions.  These  again  all  mimic  in  their  sphericity 
the  first  mind,  and  share  its  power. 

Life  is  incessant  parturition.  There  are  vivi 
parous  and  oviparous  minds ;  minds  that  produce 
their  thoughts  complete  men,  like  armed  soldiers, 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         17 

ready  and  swift  to  go  out  to  resist  and  conquer  all 
the  armies  of  error,  and  others  that  deposit  their 
dangerous  unripe  thoughts  here  and  there  to  lie 
still  for  a  time  and  be  brooded  in  other  minds,  and 
the  shell  not  be  broken  until  the  next  age,  for  them 
to  begin,  as  new  individuals,  their  career. 

The  perceptions  of  a  soul,  its  wondrous  progeny, 
are  born  by  the  conversation,  the  marriage  of 
souls;  so  nourished,  so  enlarged.  They  are  de 
tached  from  their  parent,  they  pass  into  other 
minds ;  ripened  and  unfolded  by  many  they  hasten 
to  incarnate  themselves  in  action,  to  take  body, 
only  to  carry  forward  the  will  which  sent  them 
out.  They  take  to  themselves  wood  and  stone  and 
iron ;  ships  and  cities  and  nations  and  armies  of 
men  and  ages  of  duration ;  the  pomps  of  religion, 
the  armaments  of  war,  the  codes  and  heraldry  of 
states  ;  agriculture,  trade,  commerce  ;  —  these  are 
the  ponderous  instrumentalities  into  which  the 
nimble  thoughts  pass,  and  which  they  animate  and 
alter,  and  presently,  antagonized  by  other  thoughts 
which  they  first  Caroused,  or  by  thoughts  which  are 
sons  and  daughters  of  these,  the  thought  buries  it 
self  in  the  new  thought  of  larger  scope,  whilst  the 
old  instrumentalities  and  incarnations  are  decom 
posed  and  recomposed  into  new. 

Our  eating,  trading,  marrying,  and  learning  are 
mistaken  by  us  for  ends  and  realities,  whilst  they 


18         NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT. 

are  properly  symbols  only ;  when  we  have  come, 
by  a  divine  leading,  into  the  inner  firmament,  we 
are  apprised  of  the  unreality  or  representative 
character  of  what  we  esteemed  final. 

So  works  the  poor  little  blockhead  manikin.  He 
must  arrange  and  dignify  his  shop  or  farm  the  best 
he  can.  At  last  he  must  be  able  to  tell  you  it,  or 
write  it,  translate  it  all  clumsily  enough  into  the 
new  sky-language  he  calls  thought.  He  cannot 
help  it,  the  irresistible  meliorations  bear  him  for 
ward. 

II.  Whilst  we  consider  this  appetite  of  the  mind 
to  arrange  its  phenomena,  there  is  another  fact 
which  makes  this  useful.  There  is  in  nature  a 
parallel  unity  which  corresponds  to  the  unity  in 
the  mind  and  makes  it  available.  This  methodiz 
ing  mind  meets  no  resistance  in  its  attempts.  The 
scattered  blocks,  with  which  it  strives  to  form  a 
symmetrical  structure,  fit.  This  design  following 
after  finds  with  joy  that  like  design  went  before. 
Not  only  man  puts  things  in  a  row,  but  things  be 
long  in  a  row. 

It  is  certain  that  however  we  may  conceive  of 
the  wonderful  little  bricks  of  which  the  world  is 
builded,  we  must  suppose  a  similarity  and  fitting 
and  identity  in  their  frame.  It  is  necessary  to 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         19 

suppose  that  every  hose  in  nature  fits  every  hy 
drant  ;  so  only  is  combination,  chemistry,  vegeta 
tion,  animation,  intellection  possible.  Without 
identity  at  base,  chaos  must  be  forever. 

And  as  mind,  our  mind  or  mind  like  ours  reap 
pears  to  us  in  our  study  of  nature,  nature  being 
everywhere  formed  after  a  method  which  we  can 
well  understand,  and  all  the  parts,  to  the  most 
remote,  allied  or  explicable,  —  therefore  our  own 
organization  is  a  perpetual  key,  and  a  well-ordered 
mind  brings  to  the  study  of  every  new  fact  or  class 
of  facts  a  certain  divination  of  that  which  it  shall 
find. 

This  reduction  to  a  few  laws,  to  one  law,  is  not 
a  choice  of  the  individual,  it  is  the  tyrannical  in 
stinct  of  the  mind.  There  is  no  solitary  flower  and 
no  solitary  thought.  It  comes  single  like  a  foreign 
traveller,  —  but  find  out  its  name  and  it  is  related 
to  a  powerful  and  numerous  family.  Wonderful 
is  their  working  and  relation  each  to  each.  We 
hold  them  as  lanterns  to  light  each  other  and  our 
present  design.  Every  new  thought  modifies,  in 
terprets  old  problems.  The  retrospective  value  of 
each  new  thought  is  immense,  like  a  torch  applied 
to  a  long  train  of  gunpowder.  To  be  isolated  is  to 
be  sick,  and  in  so  far,  dead.  The  life  of  the  All 
must  stream  through  us  to  make  the  man  and  the 
moment  great. 


20         NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

Well,  having  accepted  this  law  of  identity  per 
vading  the  universe,  we  next  perceive  that  whilst 
every  creature  represents  and  obeys  it,  there  is 
diversity,  there  is  more  or  less  of  power ;  that  the 
lowest  only  means  incipient  form,  and  over  it  is  a 
higher  class  in  which  its  rudiments  are  opened, 
raised  to  higher  powers  ;  that  there  is  development 
from  less  to  more,  from  lower  to  superior  function, 
steadily  ascending  to  man. 

If  man  has  organs  for  breathing,  for  sight,  for 
locomotion,  for  taking  food,  for  digesting,  for  pro 
tection  by  house-building,  by  attack  and  defence, 
for  reproduction  and  love  and  care  of  his  young, 
you  shall  find  all  the  same  in  the  muskrat.  There 
is  a  perfect  correspondence  ;  or  't  is  only  man  modi 
fied  to  live  in  a  mud-bank.  A  fish  in  like  manner 
is  man  furnished  to  live  in  the  sea ;  a  thrush,  to  fly 
in  the  air ;  and  a  mollusk  is  a  cheap  edition  with  a 
suppression  of  the  costlier  illustrations,  designed 
for  dingy  circulation,  for  shelving  in  an  oyster- 
bank  or  among  the  sea-weed. 

If  we  go  through  the  British  Museum  or  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes  in  Paris,  or  any  cabinet  where 
is  some  representation  of  all  the  kingdoms  of 
nature,  we  are  surprised  with  occult  sympathies  ; 
we  feel  as  if  looking  at  our  own  bone  and  flesh 
through  coloring  and  distorting  glasses.  Is  it  not 
a  little  startling  to  see  with  what  genius  some  peo- 


NATUEAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT.         21 

pie  take  to  hunting,  with  what  genius  some  people 
fish,  —  what  knowledge  they  still  have  of  the 
creature  they  hunt?  The  robber,  as  the  police- 
reports  say,  must  have  been  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  premises.  How  lately  the  hunter  was 
the  poor  creature's  organic  enemy  ;  a  presumption 
inflamed,  as  the  lawyers  say,  by  observing  how 
many  faces  in  the  street  still  remind  us  of  visages 
in  the  forest,  —  the  escape  from  the  quadruped 
type  not  yet  perfectly  accomplished. 

From  whatever  side  we  look  at  Nature  we  seem 
to  be  exploring   the  figure  of   a  disguised  man. 
How  obvious  is  the  momentum  in  our  mental  his 
tory!     The  momentum,  which  increases  by  exact 
laws  in  falling  bodies,  increases  ]?y  the  same  rate 
in  the  intellectual  action.     E^ery  scholar  knows / 
that  he  applies  himself  coldly  and  slowly  at  first  to » 
his  task,  but,  with  the  progress  of  the  work,  the  / 
mind  itself  becomes  heated,  and  sees  far  and  wide 
as  it  approaches  the  end,  so  that  it  is  the  common 
remark  of  the  student,  Could  I  only  have  begun 
with  the  same  fire  which  I  had  on  the  last  day,  I  » 
should  have  done  something. 

The  affinity  of  particles  accurately  translates  the 
affinity  of  thoughts,  and  what  a  modern  experi 
menter  calls  "  the  contagious  influence  of  chemical 
action  "  is  so  true  of  mind  that  I  have  only  to  read 


22         NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

the  law  that  its  application  may  be  evident :  "  A 
body  in  the  act  of  combination  or  decomposition 
enables  another  body,  with  which  it  may  be  in 
contact,  to  enter  into  the  same  state."  And  if  one 
remembers  how  contagious  are  the  moral  states  of 
men,  how  much  we  are  braced  by  the  presence  and 
actions  of  any  Spartan  soul ;  it  does  not  need 
vigor  of  our  own  kind,  but  the  spectacle  of  vigor 
of  any  kind,  any  prodigious  power  of  performance 
wonderfully  arms  and  recruits  us.  There  are  those 
who  disputing  will  make  you  dispute,  and  the 
nervous  and  hysterical  and  animalized  will  pro 
duce  a  like  series  of  symptoms  in  you,  though  no 
other  persons  ever  evoke  the  like  phenomena,  and 
though  you  are  conscious  that  they  do  not  properly 
belong  to  you,  but  are  a  sort  of  extension  of  the 
diseases  of  this  particular  person  into  you. 

The  idea  of  vegetation  is  irresistible  in  consider 
ing  mental  activity.  Man  seems  a  higher  plant. 
What  happens  here  in  mankind  is  matched  by 
what  happens  out  there  in  the  history  of  grass  and 
wheat.  This  curious  resemblance  repeats,  in  the 
mental  function,  the  germination,  growth,  state  of 
melioration,  crossings,  blight,  parasites,  and  in 
short  all  the  accidents  of  the  plant.  Under  every 
leaf  is  the  bud  of  a  new  leaf,  and  not  less  under 
every  thought  is  a  newer  thought.  The  plant  ab 
sorbs  much  nourishment  from  the  ground  in  order 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         23 

to  repair  its  own  waste  by  exhalation,  and  keep 
itself  good.  Increase  its  food  and  it  becomes  fer 
tile.  The  mind  is  first  only  receptive.  Surcharge 
it  with  thoughts  in  which  it  delights  and  it  becomes 
active.  The  moment  a  man  begins  not  to  be  con 
vinced,  that  moment  he  begins  to  convince. 

In  the  orchard  many  trees  send  out  a  moderate 
shoot  in  the  first  summer  heat,  and  stop.  They 
look  all  summer  as  if  they  would  presently  burst 
into  bud  again,  but  they  do  not.  The  fine  tree 
continues  to  grow.  The  same  thing  happens  in  the 
man.  Every  man  has  material  enough  in  his  ex 
perience  to  exhaust  the  sagacity  of  Newton  in 
working  it  out.  We  have  more  than  we  use.  I 
never  hear  a  good  speech  at  caucus  or  at  cattle- 
show  but  it  helps  me,  not  so  much  by  adding  to 
my  knowledge  as  by  apprising  me  of  admirable 
uses  to  which  what  I  know  can  be  turned.  The 
commonest  remark,  if  the  man  could  only  extend 
it  a  little,  would  make  him  a  genius ;  but  the 
thought  is  prematurely  checked,  and  grows  no 
more.  All  great  masters  are  chiefly  distinguished 
by  the  power  of  adding  a  second,  a  third,  and  per 
haps  a  fourth  step  in  a  continuous  line.  Many  a 
man  had  taken  their  first  step.  With  every  addi 
tional  step  you  enhance  immensely  the  value  of 
your  first. 

The  botanist   discovered  long  ago  that  Nature 


24         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

loves  mixtures,  and  that  nothing  grows  well  on  the 
crab-stock,  but  the  blood  of  two  trees  being  mixed 
a  new  and  excellent  fruit  is  produced.  And  not 
less  in  human  history  aboriginal  races  are  in 
capable  of  improvement ;  the  dull,  melancholy 
Pelasgi  arrive  at  no  civility  until  the  Phosnicians 
and  lonians  come  in.  The  Briton,  the  Pict,  is 
nothing  until  the  Roman,  the  Saxon,  the  Norman, 
arrives. 

It  is  observed  that  our  mental  processes  go  for 
ward  even  when  they  seem  suspended.  Scholars 
say  that  if  they  return  to  the  study  of  a  new  lan 
guage  after  some  intermission,  the  intelligence  of 
it  is  more  and  not  less.  A  subject  of  thought  to 
which  we  return  from  month  to  month,  from  year 
to  year,  has  always  some  ripeness  of  which  we  can 
give  no  account.  We  say  the  book  grew  in  the 
author's  mind. 

In  unfit  company  the  finest  powers  are  paralyzed. 
No  ambition,  no  opposition,  no  friendly  attention 
and  fostering  kindness,  no  wine,  music  or  exhila 
rating  aids,  neither  warm  fireside  nor  fresh  air, 
walking  or  riding,  avail  at  all  to  resist  the  palsy  of 
mis-association.  Genius  is  mute,  is  dull ;  there  is 
no  genius.  Ask  of  your  flowers  to  open  when  you 
have  let  in  on  them  a  freezing  wind. 

The  mechanical  laws  might  as  easily  be  shown 
pervading  the  kingdom  of  mind  as  the  vegetative. 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         25 

A  man  has  been  in  Spain.  The  facts  and  thoughts 
which  the  traveller  has  found  in  that  country 
gradually  settle  themselves  into  a  determinate  heap 
of  one  size  and  form  and  not  another.  That  is 
what  he  knows  and  has  to  say  of  Spain ;  he  cannot 
say  it  truly  until  a  sufficient  time  for  the  arrange 
ment  of  the  particles  has  elapsed. 

These  views  of  the  source  of  thought  and  the 
mode  of  its  communication  lead  us  to  a  whole  sys 
tem  of  ethics,  strict  as  any  department  of  human 
duty,  and  open  to  us  the  tendencies  and  duties  of 
men  of  thought  in  the  present  time. 

Wisdom  is  like  electricity.  There  is  no  per 
manent  wise  man,  but  men  capable  of  wisdom,  who 
being  put  into  certain  company  or  other  favorable 
conditions  become  wise,  as  glasses  rubbed  acquire 
power  for  a  time. 

An  individual  body  is  the  momentary  arrest  or 
fixation  of  certain  atoms,  which,  after  performing 
compulsory  duty  to  this  enchanted  statue,  are  re 
leased  again  to  flow  in  the  currents  of  the  world. 
An  individual  mind  in  like  manner  is  a  fixation  or 
momentary  eddy  in  which  certain  services  and 
powers  are  taken  up  and  minister  in  petty  niches 
and  localities,  and  then,  being  released,  return  to 
the  unbounded  soul  of  the  world. 

In  this  eternal  resurrection  and  rehabilitation  of 


26         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

transitory  persons,  who  and  what  are  they  ?  'T  is 
only  the  source  that  we  can  see ;  —  the  eternal 
mind,  careless  of  its  channels,  omnipotent  in  it 
self,  and  continually  ejaculating  its  torrent  into 
every  artery  and  vein  and  veinlet  of  humanity. 
Wherever  there  is  health,  that  is,  consent  to  the 
cause  and  constitution  of  the  universe,  there  is 
perception  and  power. 

Each  man  is  a  new  power  in  Nature.  He  holds 
the  keys  of  the  world  in  his  hands.  No  quality  in 
Nature's  vast  magazines  he  cannot  touch,  no  truth 
he  cannot  see.  Silent,  passive,  even  sulkily  Nature 
offers  every  morning  her  wealth  to  man.  She  is 
immensely  rich ;  he  is  welcome  to  her  entire  goods, 
but  she  speaks  no  word,  will  not  so  much  as  beckon 
or  cough  ;  only  this,  she  is  careful  to  leave  all  her 
doors  ajar,  —  towers,  hall,  storeroom  and  cellar. 
If  he  takes  her  hint  and  uses  her  goods  she  speaks 
no  word;  if  he  blunders  and  starves  she  says  no 
thing.  To  the  idle  blockhead  Nature  is  poor,  ster 
ile,  inhospitable.  To  the  gardener  her  loam  is  all 
strawberries,  pears,  pineapples.  To  the  miller  her 
rivers  whirl  the  wheel  and  weave  carpets  and  broad 
cloth.  To  the  sculptor  her  stone  is  soft ;  to  the 
painter  her  plumbago  and  marl  are  pencils  and 
chromes.  To  the  poet  all  sounds  and  words  are 
melodies  and  rhythms.  In  her  hundred-gated 
Thebes  every  chamber  is  a  new  door. 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.          27 

But  he  enters  the  world  by  one  key.  Herein  is 
the  wealth  of  each.  His  equipment,  though  new, 
is  complete  ;  his  prudence  is  his  own  ;  his  courage, 
his  charity,  are  his  own.  He  has  his  own  defences 
and  his  own  fangs  ;  his  perception  and  his  own 
mode  of  reply  to  sophistries.  Whilst  he  draws  on 
his  own  he  cannot  be  overshadowed  or  supplanted. 

There  are  two  mischievous  superstitions,  I  know 
not  which  does  the  most  harm,  one,  that  "  I  am 
wiser  than  you,"  and  the  other  that  "  You  are  wiser 
than  I."  The  truth  is  that  every  man  is  furnished, 
if  he  will  heed  it,  with  wisdom  necessary  to  steer 
his  own  boat,  —  if  he  will  not  look  away  from  his 
own  to  see  how  his  neighbor  steers  his. 

Every  man  is  a  new  method  and  distributes 
things  anew.  If  he  could  attain  full  size  he  would 
take  up,  first  or  last,  atom  by  atom,  all  the  world 
into  a  new  form.  And  our  deep  conviction  of  the 
riches  proper  to  every  mind  does  not  allow  us  to 
admit  of  much  looking  over  into  one  another's  vir 
tues.  Let  me  whisper  a  secret ;  nobody  ever  for 
gives  any  admiration  in  you  of  them,  any  overesti 
mate  of  what  they  do  or  have.  I  acquiesce  to  be 
that  I  am,  but  I  wish  no  one  to  be  civil  to  me. 

Strong  men  understand  this  very  well.  Power 
fraternizes  with  power,  and  wishes  you  not  to  be 
like  him  but  like  yourself.  Echo  the  leaders  and 
they  will  fast  enough  see  that  you  have  nothing  for 


28         NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

them.  They  came  to  you  for  something  they  had 
not. 

There  is  always  a  loss  of  truth  and  power  when  a 
man  leaves  working  for  himself  to  work  for  another. 
Absolutely  speaking  I  can  only  work  for  myself. 
All  my  good  is  magnetic,  and  I  educate  not  by  les 
sons  but  by  going  about  my  business.  When, 
moved  by  love,  a  man  teaches  his  child  or  joins 
with  his  neighbor  in  any  act  of  common  benefit,  or 
spends  himself  for  his  friend,  or  rushes  at  immense 
personal  sacrifice  on  some  public,  self-immolating 
act,  it  is  not  done  for  others,  but  to  fulfil  a  high 
necessity  of  his  proper  character.  The  benefit  to 
others  is  contingent  and  not  contemplated  by  the 
doer. 

The  one  thing  not  to  be  forgiven  to  intellectual 
persons  is  that  they  believe  in  the  ideas  of  others. 
From  this  deference  comes  the  imbecility  and  fa 
tigue  of  their  society,  for  of  course  they  cannot  af 
firm  these  from  the  deep  life  ;  they  say  what  they 
would  have  you  believe,  but  what  they  do  not  quite 
know.  Profound  sincerity  is  the  only  basis  of  tal 
ent  as  of  character.  The  temptation  is  to  patronize 
Providence,  to  fall  into  the  accepted  ways  of  talk 
ing  and  acting  of  the  good  sort  of  people. 

Each  has  a  certain  aptitude  for  knowing  or  doing 
somewhat  which,  when  it  appears,  is  so  adapted 
and  aimed  on  that,  that  it  seems  a  sort  of  obtuse- 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         29 

ness  to  everything  else.  Well,  this  aptitude,  if  he 
would  obey  it,  would  prove  a  telescope  to  bring  un 
der  his  clear  vision  what  was  blur  to  everybody 
else.  'T  is  a  wonderful  instrument,  an  organic 
sympathy  with  the  whole  frame  of  things.  There 
is  no  property  or  relation  in  that  immense  arsenal 
of  forces  which  the  earth  is,  but  some  man  is  at 
last  found  who  affects  this,  delights  to  unfold  and 
work  it,  as  if  he  were  the  born  publisher  and  de 
monstrator  of  it. 

As  a  dog  has  a  sense  that  you  have  not,  to  find 
the  track  of  his  master  or  of  a  fox,  and  as  each 
tree  can  secrete  from  the  soil  the  elements  that 
form  a  peach,  a  lemon,  or  a  cocoa-nut,  according  to 
its  kind,  so  individual  men  have  secret  senses,  each 
some  incommunicable  sagacity.  And  men  are  pri 
mary  or  secondary  as  their  opinions  and  actions  are 
organic  or  not. 

I  know  well  what  a  sieve  every  ear  is.  Teach 
me  never  so  much  and  I  hear  or  retain  only  that 
which  I  wish  to  hear,  what  comports  with  my  ex 
perience  and  my  desire.  Many  eyes  go  through 
the  meadow,  but  few  see  the  flowers.  A  hunter 
finds  plenty  of  game  on  the  ground  you  have  saun 
tered  over  with  idle  gun.  White  huckleberries  are 
so  rare  that  in  miles  of  pasture  you  shall  not  find  a 
dozen.  But  a  girl  who  understands  it  will  find 
you  a  pint  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 


30         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

Though  the  world  is  full  of  food  we  can  take 
only  the  crumbs  fit  for  us.  The  air  rings  with 
sounds,  but  only  a  few  vibrations  can  reach  our 
tympanum.  Perhaps  creatures  live  with  us  which 
we  never  see,  because  their  motion  is  too  swift 
for  our  vision.  The  sun  may  shine,  or  a  galaxy  of 
suns ;  you  will  get  no  more  light  than  your  eye  will 
hold.  What  can  Plato  or  Newton  teach,  if  you 
are  deaf  or  incapable  ?  A  mind  does  not  receive 
truth  as  a  chest  receives  jewels  that  are  put  into  it, 
but  as  the  stomach  takes  up  food  into  the  system. 
It  is  no  longer  food,  but  flesh,  and  is  assimilated. 
The  appetite  and  the  power  of  digestion  measure 
our  right  to  knowledge.  He  has  it  who  can  use  it. 
As  soon  as  our  accumulation  overruns  our  inven 
tion  or  power  to  use,  the  evils  of  intellectual  glut 
tony  begin,  —  congestion  of  the  brain,  apoplexy 
and  strangulation. 

III.  In  reckoning  the  sources  of  our  mental 
power  it  were  fatal  to  omit  that  one  which  pours 
all  the  others  into  its  mould  ;  —  that  unknown 
country  in  which  all  the  rivers  of  our  knowledge 
have  their  fountains,  and  which,  by  its  qualities  and 
structure,  determines  both  the  nature  of  the  waters 
and  the  direction  in  which  they  flow. 

The  healthy  mind  lies  parallel  to  the  currents  of 
nature  and  sees  things  in  place,  or  makes  discover- 


NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         31 

ies.  Newton  did  not  exercise  more  ingenuity  but 
less  than  another  to  see  the  world.  Right  thought 
comes  spontaneously,  comes  like  the  morning  wind ; 
comes  daily,  like  our  daily  bread,  to  humble  ser 
vice  ;  comes  duly  to  those  who  look  for  it.  It  does 
riot  need  to  pump  your  brains  and  force  thought  to 
think  rightly.  O  no,  the  ingenious  person  is 
warped  by  his  ingenuity  and  mis-sees. 

Instinct  is  our  name  for  the  potential  wit.  Each 
man  has  a  feeling  that  what  is  done  anywhere  is 
done  by  the  same  wit  as  his.  All  men  are  his  rep 
resentatives,  and  he  is  glad  to  see  that  his  wit  can 
work  at  this  or  that  problem  as  it  ought  to  be 
done,  and  better  than  he  could  do  it.  We  feel  as 
if  one  man  wrote  all  the  books,  painted,  built,  in 
dark  ages ;  and  we  are  sure  that  it  can  do  more 
than  ever  was  done.  It  was  the  same  mind  that 
built  the  world.  That  is  Instinct. 

Ask  what  the  Instinct  declares,  and  we  have  lit 
tle  to  say.  He  is  no  newsmonger,  no  disputant,  no 
talker.  'T  is  a  taper,  a  spark  in  the  great  night. 
Yet  a  spark  at  which  all  the  illuminations  of  hu 
man  arts  and  sciences  were  kindled.  This  is  that 
glimpse  of  inextinguishable  light  by  which  men  are 
guided ;  though  it  does*  not  show  objects,  yet  it 
shows  the  way.  This  is  that  sense  by  which  men 
feel  when  they  are  wronged,  though  they  do  not 
see  how.  This  is  that  source  of  thought  and  feel- 


32         NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

ing  which  acts  on  masses  of  men,  on  all  men  at 
certain  times,  with  resistless  power.  Ever  at  inter 
vals  leaps  a  word  or  fact  to  light  which  is  no  man's 
invention,  but  the  common  instinct,  making  the 
revolutions  that  never  go  back. 

This  is  Instinct,  and  Inspiration  is  only  this  power 
excited,  breaking  its  silence  ;  the  spark  bursting 
into  flame.  Instinct  is  a  shapeless  giant  in  the 
cave,  massive,  without  hands  or  fingers  or  articu 
lating  lips  or  teeth  or  tongue  ;  Behemoth,  disdain 
ing  speech,  disdaining  particulars,  lurking,  surly, 
invincible,  disdaining  thoughts,  always  whole,  never 
distributed,  aboriginal,  old  as  nature,  and  saying, 
like  poor  Topsy,  "  never  was  born,  growed."  In 
different  to  the  dignity  of  its  function,  it  plays  the 
god  in  animal  nature  as  in  human  or  as  in  the  an 
gelic,  and  spends  its  omniscience  on  the  lowest 
wants.  The  old  Hindoo  Gautama  says,  "Like 
the  approach  of  the  iron  to  the  loadstone  is  the 
approach  of  the  new-born  child  to  the  breast." 
There  is  somewhat  awful  in  that  first  approach. 

The  Instinct  begins  at  this  low  point,  at  the  sur 
face  of  the  earth,  and  works  for  the  necessities  of 
the  human  being ;  then  ascends  step  by  step  to 
suggestions  which  are  when  expressed  the  intellec 
tual  and  moral  laws. 

The  mythology  cleaves  close  to  nature ;  and 
what  else  was  it  they  represented  in  Pan,  god  of 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.          33 

shepherds,  who  was  not  yet  completely  finished  in 
god-like  form,  blocked  rather,  and  wanting  the  ex 
tremities  ;  had  emblematic  horns  and  feet  ?  Pan, 
that  is,  All.  His  habit  was  to  dwell  in  mountains, 
lying  on  the  ground,  tooting  like  a  cricket  in  the 
sun,  refusing  to  speak,  clinging  to  his  behemoth 
ways.  He  could  intoxicate  by  the  strain  of  his 
shepherd's  pipe,  —  silent  yet  to  most,  for  his  pipes 
make  the  music  of  the  spheres,  which  because  it 
sounds  eternally  is  not  heard  at  all  by  the  dull,  but 
only  by  the  mind.  He  wears  a  coat  of  leopard 
spots  or  stars.  He  could  terrify  by  earth-born 
fears  called  panics.  Yet  was  he  in  the  secret  of 
nature  and  could  look  both  before  and  after.  He 
was  only  seen  under  disguises,  and  was  not  repre 
sented  by  any  outward  image  ;  a  terror  sometimes, 
at  others  a  placid  omnipotence. 

Such  homage  did  the  Greek,  delighting  in  accu 
rate  form,  not  fond  of  the  extravagant  and  un 
bounded,  pay  to  the  inscrutable  force  we  call  In 
stinct,  or  nature  when  it  first  becomes  intelligent. 

The  action  of  the  Instinct  is  for  the  most  part 
negative,  regulative,  rather  than  initiative  or  im 
pulsive.  But  it  has  a  range  as  wide  as  human  na 
ture,  running  over  all  the  ground  of  morals,  of  in 
tellect,  and  of  sense.  In  its  lower  function,  when 
it  deals  with  the  apparent  world,  it  is  common- 
sense.  It  requires  the  performance  of  all  that  is 


34          NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

needful  to  the  animal  life  and  health.  Then  it  re 
quires  a  proportion  between  a  man's  acts  and  his 
condition,  requires  all  that  is  called  humanity  ;  that 
symmetry  and  connection  which  is  imperative  in 
all  healthily  constituted  men,  and  the  want  of 
which  the  rare  and  brilliant  sallies  of  irregular 
genius  cannot  excuse. 

If  we  could  retain  our  early  innocence  we  might ' 
trust  our  feet  uncommanded  to  take  the  right  path  * 
to  our  friend  in  the  woods.     But  we  have  inter 
fered  too  often  ;  the  feet  have  lost,  by  our  distrust, 
their  proper  virtue,  and  we  take  the  wrong  path 
and  miss  him.     'T  is  the  barbarian  instinct  within 
us  which  culture  deadens. 

We  find  ourselves  expressed  in  nature,  but  we 
cannot  translate  it  into  words.  But  Perception 
is  the  armed  eye.  A  civilization  has  tamed  and 
ripened  this  savage  wit,  and  he  is  a  Greek.  His 
Aye  and  No  have  become  nouns  and  verbs  and 
adverbs.  Perception  differs  from  Instinct  by  add 
ing  the  Will.  Simple  percipiency  is  the  virtue  of 
space,  not  of  man. 

The  senses  minister  to  a  mind  they  do  not  know. 
At  a  moment  in  our  history  the  mind's  eye  opens 
and  we  become  aware  of  spiritual  facts,  of  rights, 
of  duties,  of  thoughts,  —  a  thousand  faces  of  one 
essence.  We  call  the  essence  Truth  ;  the  particu- 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         35 

lar  aspects  of  it  we  call  thoughts.  These  facts, 
this  essence,  are  not  new ;  they  are  old  and  eternal, 
but  our  seeing  of  them  is  new.  Having  seen  them 
we  are  no  longer  brute  lumps  whirled  by  Fate,  but 
we  pass  into  the  council-chamber  and  government 
of  nature.  In  so  far  as  we  see  them  we  share 
their  life  and  sovereignty. 

The  point  of  interest  is  here,  that  these  gates, 
once  opened,  never  swing  back.  The  observers 
may  come  at  their  leisure,  and  do  at  last  satisfy 
themselves  of  the  fact.  The  thought,  the  doctrine, 
the  right  hitherto  not  affirmed  is  published  in  set 
propositions,  in  conversation  of  scholars  and  phi 
losophers,  of  men  of  the  world,  and  at  last  in  the 
very  choruses  of  songs.  The  young  hear  it,  and 
as  they  have  never  fought  it,  never  known  it  other 
wise,  they  accept  it,  vote  for  it  at  the  polls,  embody 
it  in  the  laws.  And  the  perception  thus  satisfied 
reacts  on  the  senses,  to  clarify  them,  so  that  it 
becomes  more  indisputable. 

This  is  the  first  property  of  the  Intellect  I  am 
to  point  out ;  the  mind  detaches.  A  man  is  intel 
lectual  in  proportion  as  he  can  make  an  object  of 
every  sensation,  perception  and  intuition ;  so  long 
as  he  has  no  engagement  in  any  thought  or  feel 
ing  which  can  hinder  him  from  looking  at  it  as 
somewhat  foreign. 


36          NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

A  man  of  talent  has  only  to  name  any  form  or 
fact  with  which  we  are  most  familiar,  and  the 
strong  light  which  he  throws  on  it  enhances  it  to 
all  eyes.  People  wonder  they  never  saw  it  before. 
The  detachment  consists  in  seeing  it  under  a  new 
order,  not  under  a  personal  but  under  a  universal 
light.  To  us  it  had  economic,  but  to  the  universe 
it  has  poetic  relations,  and  it  is  as  good  as  sun  and 
star  now.  Indeed  this  is  the  measure  of  all  intel 
lectual  power  among  men,  the  power  to  complete 
this  detachment,  the  power  of  genius  to  hurl  a  new 
individual  into  the  world. 

An  intellectual  man  has  the  power  to  go  out  of 
himself  and  see  himself  as  an  object ;  therefore 
his  defects  and  delusions  interest  him  as  much  as 
his  successes.  He  not  only  wishes  to  succeed  in 
life,  but  he  wishes  in  thought  to  know  the  history 
and  destiny  of  a  man  ;  whilst  the  cloud  of  egotists 
drifting  about  are  only  interested  in  a  success  to 
their  egotism. 

The  senses  report  the  new  fact  or  change  ;  the 
mind  discovers  some  essential  copula  binding  this 
fact  or  change  to  a  class  of  facts  or  changes, 
and  enjoys  the  discovery  as  if  coming  to  its  own 
again.  A  perception  is  always  a  generalization.; 
It  lifts  the  object,  whether  in  material  or  moral 
nature,  into  a  type.  The  animal,  the  low  degrees 
of  intellect,  know  only  individuals.  The  philoso- 


NATURAL  HIS  TOBY  OF  INTELLECT.          37 

pher  knows  only  laws.  That  is,  he  considers  a 
purely  mental  fact,  part  of  the  soul  itself.  We 
say  with  Kenelm  Digby,  "  All  things  that  she 
knoweth  are  herself,  and  she  is  all  that  she  know- 
eth."  Insight  assimilates  the  thing  seen.  Is  it 
only  another  way  of  affirming  and  illustrating 
this  to  say  that  it  sees  nothing  alone,  but  sees  each 
particular  object  in  just  connections,  —  sees  all  in 
God  ?  In  all  healthy  souls  is  an  inborn  necessity 
of  presupposing  for  each  particular  fact  a  prior 
Being  which  compels  it  to  a  harmony  with  all 
other  natures.  The  game  of  Intellect  is  the  per 
ception  that  whatever  befalls  or  can  be  stated  is  a 
universal  proposition ;  and  contrariwise,  that  every 
general  statement  is  poetical  again  by  being  par 
ticularized  or  impersonated. 

A  single  thought  has  no  limit  to  its  value  ;  a 
thought,  properly  speaking,  —  that  is  a  truth  held 
not  from  any  man's  saying  so,  or  any  accidental 
benefit  or  recommendation  it  has  in  our  trade  or 
circumstance,  but  because  we  have  perceived  it  is 
a  fact  in  the  nature  of  things,  and  in  all  times  and 
places  will  and  must  be  the  same  thing,  —  is  of 
inestimable  value.  Every  new  impression  on  the 
mind  is  not  to  be  derided,  but  is  to  be  accounted 
for,  and,  until  accounted  for,  registered  as  an  in 
disputable  addition  to  our  catalogue  of  natural 
facts. 


38          NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT. 

The  first  fact  is  the  fate  in  every  mental  percep 
tion,  —  that  my  seeing  this  or  that,  and  that  I  see 
it  so  or  so,  is  as  much  a  fact  in  the  natural  history 
of  the  world  as  is  the  freezing  of  water  at  thirty- 
two  degrees  of  Fahrenheit.  My  percipiency  affirms 
the  presence  and  perfection  of  law,  as  much  as 
all  the  martyrs.  A  perception,  it  is  of  a  necessity 
older  than  the  sun  and  moon,  and  the  Father  of 
the  Gods.  It  is  there  with  all  its  destinies.  It  is 
its  nature  to  rush  to  expression,  to  rush  to  embocly 
itself.  It  is  impatient  to  put  on  its  sandals  and 
be  gone  on  its  errand,  which  is  to  lead  to  a  larger 
perception,  and  so  to  new  action.  For  thought 
exists  to  be  expressed.  That  which  cannot  exter- 
nize  itself  is  not  thought. 

Do  not  trifle  with  your  perceptions,  or  hold  them 
cheap.  They  are  your  door  to  the  seven  heavens, 
and  if  you  pass  it  by  you  will  miss  your  way. 
Say,  what  impresses  me  ought  to  impress  me.  I 
am  bewildered  by  the  immense  variety  of  attrac 
tions  and  cannot  take  a  step ;  but  this  one  thread, 
fine  as  gossamer,  is  yet  real ;  and  I  hear  a  whis 
per,  which  I  dare  trust,  that  it  is  the  thread  on 
which  the  earth  and  the  heaven  of  heavens  are 
strung. 

The  universe  is  traversed  by  paths  or  bridges  or 
stepping-stones  across  the  gulfs  of  space  in  every 
direction.  To  every  soul  that  is  created  is  its 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.          39 

path,  invisible  to  all  but  itself.  Each  soul,  there 
fore,  walking  in  its  own  path  walks  firmly ;  and  to 
the  astonishment  of  all  other  souls,  who  see  not 
its  path,  it  goes  as  softly  and  playfully  011  its  way 
as  if,  instead  of  being  a  line,  narrow  as  the  edge  of 
a  sword,  over  terrific  pits  right  and  left,  it  were  a 
wide  prairie. 

Genius  is  a  delicate  sensibility  to  the  laws  of  the 
world,  adding  the  power  to  express  them  again  in 
some  new  form.  The  highest  measure  of  poetic  \ 
power  is  such  insight  and  faculty  to  fuse  the  cir 
cumstances  of  to-day  as  shall  make  transparent  the 
whole  web  of  circumstance  and  opinion  in  which 
the  man  finds  himself,  so  that  he  releases  himself 
from  the  traditions  in  which  he  grew,  —  no  longer 
looks  back  to  Hebrew  or  Greek  or  English  use  or 
tradition  in  religion,  laws,  or  life,  but  sees  so  truly 
the  omnipresence  of  eternal  cause  that  he  can  con 
vert  the  daily  and  hourly  event  of  New  York,  of  L 
Boston,  into  universal  symbols.  I  owe  to  geniuS" 
always  the  same  debt,  of  lifting  the  curtain  from 
the  common  and  showing  me  that  gods  are  sitting 
disguised  in  every  company. 

The  conduct  of  Intellect  must  respect  nothing 
so  much  as  preserving  the  sensibility.  My  mea 
sure  for  all  subjects  of  science  as  of  events  is  their 
impression  on  the  soul.  That  mind  is  best  which 
is  most  impressionable.  There  are  times  when  the 


40         NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT. 

cawing  of  a  crow,  a  weed,  a  snow-flake,  a  boy's 
willow  whistle,  or  a  farmer  planting  in  his  field  is 
more  suggestive  to  the  mind  than  the  Yosemite 
gorge  or  the  Vatican  would  be  in  another  hour. 
In  like  mood  an  old  verse,  or  certain  words,  gleam 
with  rare  significance. 

But  sensibility  does  not  exhaust  our  idea  of  it. 
That  is  only  half.  Genius  is  not  a  lazy  angel  con 
templating  itself  and  things.  It  is  insatiable  for 
expression.  Thought  must  take  the  stupendous 
step  of  passing  into  realization.  A  master  can 
formulate  his  thought.  Our  thoughts  at  first  pos 
sess  us.  Later,  if  we  have  good  heads,  we  come  to 
possess  them.  We  believe  that  certain  persons 
add  to  the  common  vision  a  certain  degree  of  con 
trol  over  these  states  of  mind;  that  the  true 
scholar  is  one  who  has  the  power  to  stand  beside 
his  thoughts  or  to  hold  off  his  thoughts  at  arm's 
length  and  give  them  perspective. 

It  is  not  to  be  concealed  that  the  gods  have 
guarded  this  privilege  with  costly  penalty.  This 
slight  discontinuity  which  perception  effects  be 
tween  the  mind  and  the  object  paralyzes  the  will. 
If  you  cut  or  break  in  two  a  block  or  stone  and 
press  the  two  parts  closely  together,  you  can  indeed 
bring  the  particles  very  near,  but  never  again  so 
near  that  they  shall  attract  each  other  so  that  you 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         41 

can  take  up  the  block  as  one.  That  indescribably 
small  interval  is  as  good  as  a  thousand  miles,  and 
has  forever  severed  the  practical  unity.  Such  is 
the  immense  deduction  from  power  by  disconti 
nuity. 

The  intellect  that  sees  the  interval  partakes  of 
it,  and  the  fact  of  intellectual  perception  severs 
once  for  all  the  man  from  the  things  with  which 
he  converses.  Affection  blends,  intellect  disjoins 
subject  and  object.  For  weal  or  woe  we  clear  our 
selves  from  the  thing  we  contemplate.  We  grieve 
but  are  not  the  grief ;  we  love  but  are  not  love. 
If  we  converse  with  low  things,  with  crimes,  with 
mischances,  we  are  not  compromised.  And  if  with 
high  things,  with  heroic  actions,  with  virtues,  the 
interval  becomes  a  gulf  and  we  cannot  enter  into 
the  highest  good.  Artist  natures  do  not  weep. 
Goethe,  the  surpassing  intellect  of  modern  times, 
apprehends  the  spiritual  but  is  not  spiritual. 

There  is  indeed  this  vice  about  men  of  thought, 
that  you  cannot  quite  trust  them ;  not  as  much  as 
other  men  of  the  same  natural  probity,  without  in 
tellect  ;  because  they  have  a  hankering  to  play 
Providence  and  make  a  distinction  in  favor  of 
themselves  from  the  rules  they  apply  to  the  hu 
man  race. 

The  primary  rule  for  the  conduct  of  Intellect  is 


42         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

to  have  control  of  the  thoughts  without  losing  their 
natural  attitudes  and  action.  They  are  the  ora 
cle  ;  we  are  not  to  poke  and  drill  and  force,  but  to 
follow  them.  Yet  the  spirits  of  the  prophets  are 
subject  to  the  prophets.  You  must  formulate  your 
thought  or  't  is  all  sky  and  no  stars.  There  are 
men  of  great  apprehension,  discursive  minds,  who 
easily  entertain  ideas,  but  are  not  exact,  severe 
with  themselves,  cannot  connect  or  arrange  their 
thoughts  so  as  effectively  to  report  them.  A  blend 
ing  of  these  two  —  the  intellectual  perception  of 
truth  and  the  moral  sentiment  of  right  —  is  wis 
dom.  All  thought  is  practical.  Wishing  is  one 
thing  ;  will  another.  Wishing  is  castle-building  ; 
the  dreaming  about  things  agreeable  to  the  senses, 
but  to  which  we  have  no  right.  Will  is  the  ad 
vance  to  that  which  rightly  belongs  to  us,  to  which 
the  inward  magnet  ever  points,  and  which  we  dare 
to  make  ours.  The  revelation  of  thought  takes  us 
out  of  servitude  into  freedom.  So  does  the  sense 
of  right. 

Will  is  the  measure  of  power.  To  a  great 
genius  there  must  be  a  great  will.  If  the  thought 
is  not  a  lamp  to  the  will,  does  not  proceed  to  an 
act,  the  wise  are  imbecile.  He  alone  is  strong  and 
happy  who  has  a  will.  The  rest  are  herds.  He 
uses ;  they  are  used.  He  is  of  the  Maker ;  they 
are  of  the  Made. 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         43 

Will  is  always  miraculous,  being  the  presence  of 
God  to  men.  When  it  appears  in  a  man  he  is  a 
hero,  and  all  metaphysics  are  at  fault.  Heaven  is 
the  exercise  of  the  faculties,  the  added  sense  of 
power. 

All  men  know  the  truth,  but  what  of  that  ?  It 
is  rare  to  find  one  who  knows  how  to  speak  it.  A 
man  tries  to  speak  it  and  his  voice  is  like  the  hiss 
of  a  snake,  or  rude  and  chiding.  The  truth  is  not 
spoken  but  injured.  The  same  thing  happens  in 
power  to  do  the  right.  His  rectitude  is  ridiculous. 
His  organs  do  not  play  him  true. 

There  is  a  meter  which  determines  the  construc 
tive  power  of  man,  —  this,  namely,  the  question 
whether  the  mind  possesses  the  control  of  its 
thoughts,  or  they  of  it.  The  new  sect  stands  for 
certain  thoughts.  We  go  to  individual  members 
for  an  exposition  of  them.  Vain  expectation. 
They  are  possessed  by  the  ideas  but  do  not  pos 
sess  them.  One  meets  contemplative  men  who 
dwell  in  a  certain  feeling  and  delight  which  are 
intellectual  but  wholly  above  their  expression. 
They  cannot  formulate.  They  impress  those  who 
know  them  by  their  loyalty  to  the  truth  they  wor 
ship  but  cannot  impart.  Sometimes  the  patience 
and  love  are  rewarded  by  the  chamber  of  power 
being  at  last  opened ;  but  sometimes  they  pass 
away  dumb,  to  find  it  where  all  obstruction  is  re 
moved. 


44         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

By  and  by  coines  a  facility ;  some  one  that  can 
move  the  mountain  and  build  of  it  a  causeway 
through  the  Dismal  Swamp,  as  easily  as  he  carries 
the  hair  on  his  head.  Talent  is  habitual  facility 
of  execution.  We  like  people  who  can  do  things. 
The  various  talents  are  organic,  or  each  related 
to  that  part  of  nature  it  is  to  explore  and  utilize. 
Somewhat  is  to  come  to  the  light,  and  one  was 
created  to  fetch  it,  —  a  vessel  of  honor  or  of  dis 
honor.  'T  is  of  instant  use  in  the  economy  of  the 
Cosmos,  and  the  more  armed  and  biassed  for  the 
work  the  better. 

Each  of  these  talents  is  born  to  be  unfolded  and 
set  at  work  for  the  use  and  delight  of  men,  and,  in 
the  last  result,  the  man  with  the  talent  is  the  need 
of  mankind ;  the  whole  ponderous  machinery  of 
the  state  has  really  for  its  aim  just  to  place  this 
skill  of  each. 

But  idea  and  execution  are  not  often  entrusted 
to  the  same  head.  There  is  some  incompatibility 
of  good  speculation  and  practice,  for  example,  the 
failure  of  monasteries  and  Brook  Farms.  To  ham 
mer  out  phalanxes  must  be  done  by  smiths ;  as  soon 
as  the  scholar  attempts  it  he  is  half  a  charlatan. 

The  grasp  is  the  main  thing.  Most  men's 
minds  do  not  grasp  anything.  All  slips  through 
their  fingers,  like  the  paltry  brass  grooves  that  in 
most  country  houses  are  used  to  raise  or  drop  the 


NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT.         45 

curtain,  but  are  made  to  sell,  and  will  not  hold 
any  curtain  but  cobwebs.  I  have  heard  that  idiot 
children  are  known  from  their  birth  by  the  cir 
cumstance  that  their  hands  do  not  close  round 
anything.  Webster  naturally  and  always  grasps, 
and  therefore  retains  something  from  every  com 
pany  and  circumstance. 

As  a  talent  Dante's  imagination  is  the  nearest 
to  hands  and  feet  that  we  have  seen.  He  clasps 
the  thought  as  if  it  were  a  tree  or  a  stone,  and  de 
scribes  as  mathematically.  I  once  found  Page 
the  painter  modelling  his  figures  in  clay,  Euth  and 
Naomi,  before  he  painted  them  on  canvas.  Dante, 
one  would  say,  did  the  same  thing  before  he  wrote 
the  verses. 

I  have  spoken  of  Intellect  constructive.  But 
it  is  in  degrees.  How  it  moves  when  its  pace  is 
accelerated !  The  pace  of  Nature  is  so  slow.  Why 
not  from  strength  to  strength,  from  miracle  to 
miracle,  and  not  as  now  with  this  retardation  —  as 
if  Nature  had  sprained  her  foot  —  and  plenteous 
stopping  at  little  stations  ? 

The  difference  is  obvious  enough  in  Talent  be 
tween  the  speed  of  one  man's  action  above  anoth 
er's.  In  debate,  in  legislature,  not  less  in  action ; 
in  war  or  in  affairs,  alike  daring  and  effective.  But 
I  speak  of  it  in  quite  another  sense,  namely,  in  the 
habitual  speed  of  combination  of  thought. 


46          NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

The  same  functions  which  are  perfect  in  our 
quadrupeds  are  seen  slower  performed  in  palaeon 
tology.  Many  races  it  cost  them  to  achieve  the 
completion  that  is  now  in  the  life  of  one.  Life 
had  not  yet  so  fierce  a  glow. 

Shakespeare  astonishes  by  his  equality  in  every 
play,  act,  scene  or  line.  One  would  say  he  must 
have  been  a  thousand  years  old  when  he  wrote  his 
first  line,  so  thoroughly  is  his  thought  familiar  to 
him,  and  has  such  scope  and  so  solidly  worded,  as 
if  it  were  already  a  proverb  and  not  hereafter  to 
become  one.  Well,  that  millenium  in  effect  is 
really  only  a  little  acceleration  in  his  process  of 
thought. 

But  each  power  is  commonly  at  the  expense  of 
some  other.  When  pace  is  increased  it  will  happen 
that  the  control  is  in  a  degree  lost.  Reason  does 
not  keep  her  firm  seat.  The  Delphian  prophetess, 
when  the  spirit  possesses  her,  is  herself  a  victim. 
The  excess  of  individualism,  when  it  is  not  cor 
rected  or  subordinated  to  the  Supreme  Reason, 
makes  that  vice  which  we  stigmatize  as  monotones, 
men  of  one  idea,  or,  as  the  French  say,  enfant 
perdu  d'une  conviction  isolee,  which  give  such  a 
comic  tinge  to  all  society.  Every  man  has  his 
theory,  true,  but  ridiculously  overstated.  We  are 
forced  to  treat  a  great  part  of  mankind  as  if  they 
were  a  little  deranged.  We  detect  their  mania 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.          47 

and  humor  it,  so  that  conversation  soon  becomes  a 
tiresome  effort. 

You  laugh  at  the  monotones,  at  the  men  of  one 
idea,  but  if  we  look  nearly  at  heroes  we  may  find 
the  same  poverty  ;  and  perhaps  it  is  not  poverty, 
but  power.  The  secret  of  power,  intellectual  or 
physical,  is  concentration,  and  all  concentration 
involves  of  necessity  a  certain  narrowness.  It  is  a 
law  of  nature  that  he  who  looks  at  one  thing  must 
turn  his  eyes  from  every  other  thing  in  the  uni 
verse.  The  horse  goes  better  with  blinders,  and 
the  man  for  dedication  to  his  task.  If  you  ask 
what  compensation  is  made  for  the  inevitable  nar 
rowness,  why,  this,  that  in  learning  one  thing  well 
you  learn  all  things. 

Immense  is  the  patience  of  Nature.  You  say 
thought  is  a  penurious  rill.  Well,  we  can  wait. 
Nature  is  immortal,  and  can  wait.  Nature  having 
for  capital  this  rill,  drop  by  drop,  as  it  trickles 
from  the  rock  of  ages,  —  this  rill  and  her  patience, 
—  she  husbands  and  hives,  she  forms  reservoirs, 
were  it  only  a  phial  or  a  hair-tube  that  will  hold  as 
it  were  a  drop  of  attar.  Not  having  enough  to  sup 
port  all  the  powers  of  a  race,  she  thins  her  stock 
and  raises  a  few  individuals,  or  only  a  pair.  Not 
sufficing  to  feed  all  the  faculties  synchronously, 
she  feeds  one  faculty  and  starves  all  the  rest.  I 
am  familiar  with  cases,  we  meet  them  daily, 


48         NATUEAL  HISTOBY  OF  INTELLECT. 

wherein  the  vital  force  being  insufficient  for  the 
constitution,  everything  is  neglected  that  can  be 
spared ;  some  one  power  fed,  all  the  rest  pine. 
'T  is  like  a  withered  hand  or  leg  on  a  Hercules. 
It  makes  inconvenience  in  society,  for  we  presume 
symmetry,  and  because  they  know  one  thing  we 
defer  to  them  in  another,  and  find  them  really 
contemptible.  We  can't  make  half  a  bow  and  say, 
I  honor  and  despise  you.  But  Nature  can  ;  she 
whistles  with  all  her  winds,  and  does  as  she  pleases. 

It  is  much  to  write  sentences;  it  is  more  to  add 
method  and  write  out  the  spirit  of  your  life  sym 
metrically.  But  to  arrange  general  reflections  in 
their  natural  order,  so  that  I  shall  have  one  homo 
geneous  piece,  —  a  Lycidas,  an  Allegro,  a  Hamlet, 
a  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  —  this  continuity  is 
for  the  great.  The  wonderful  men  are  wonderful 
hereby.  Such  concentration  of  experiences  is  in 
every  great  work,  which,  though  successive  in  the 
mind  of  the  master,  were  primarily  combined  in 
his  piece. 

But  what  we  want  is  consecutiveness.  'T  is  with 
us  a  flash  of  light,  then  a  long  darkness,  then  a 
flash  again.  Ah !  could  we  turn  these  fugitive 
sparkles  into  an  astronomy  of  Copernican  worlds. 

I   must  think   this  keen  sympathy,    this    thrill 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         49 

of  awe  with  which  we  watch  the  performance  of 
genius,  a  sign  of  our  own  readiness  to  exert  the 
like  power.  I  must  think  we  are  entitled  to  pow 
ers  far  transcending  any  that  we  possess  ;  that  we 
have  in  the  race  the  sketch  of  a  man  which  no 
individual  comes  up  to. 

Every  sincere  man  is  right,  or,  to  make  him 
right,  only  needs  a  little  larger  dose  of  his  own  per 
sonality.  Excellent  in  his  own  way  by  means  of 
not  apprehending  the  gift  of  another.  When  he 
speaks  out  of  another's  mind,  we  detect  it.  He 
can't  make  any  paint  stick  but  his  own.  No  man 
passes  for  that  with  another  which  he  passes  for 
with  himself.  The  respect  and  the  censure  of  his 
brother  are  alike  injurious  and  irrelevant.  We 
see  ourselves;  we  lack  organs  to  see  others,  and 
only  squint  at  them. 

Don't  fear  to  push  these  individualities  to  their 
farthest  divergence.  Characters  and  talents  are 
complemental  and  suppletory.  The  world  stands 
by  balanced  antagonisms.  The  more  the  peculiar 
ities  are  pressed  the  better  the  result.  The  air 
would  rot  without  lightning ;  and  without  the  vio 
lence  of  direction  that  men  have,  without  bigots, 
without  men  of  fixed  idea,  no  excitement,  no  effi 
ciency. 

The  novelist  should  not  make  any  character  act 
absurdly,  but  only  absurdly  as  seen  by  others. 


50         NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT. 

For  it  is  so  in  life.  Nonsense  will  not  keep  its 
unreason  if  you  come  into  the  humorist's  point 
of  view,  but  unhappily  we  find  it  is  fast  becoming 
sense,  and  we  must  flee  again  into  the  distance  if 
we  would  laugh. 

What  strength  belongs  to  every  plant  and  ani 
mal  in  nature.  The  tree  or  the  brook  has  no 
duplicity,  no  pretentiousness,  no  show.  It  is,  with 
all  its  might  and  main,  what  it  is,  and  makes  one 
and  the  same  impression  and  effect  at  all  times. 
All  the  thoughts  of  a  turtle  are  turtles,  and  of 
a  rabbit,  rabbits.  But  a  man  is  broken  and  dissi 
pated  by  the  giddiness  of  his  will;  he  does  not 
throw  himself  into  his  judgments  ;  his  genius  leads 
him  one  way  but  't  is  likely  his  trade  or  politics 
in  quite  another.  He  rows  with  one  hand  and 
with  the  other  backs  water,  and  does  not  give  to 
any  manner  of  life  the  strength  of  his  constitution. 
Hence  the  perpetual  loss  of  power  and  waste  of 
human  life. 

The  natural  remedy  against  this  miscellany  of 
knowledge  and  aim,  this  desultory  universality  of 
ours,  this  immense  ground- juniper  falling  abroad 
and  not  gathered  up  into  any  columnar  tree,  is  to 
substitute  realism  for  sentimentalism ;  a  certain 
recognition  of  the  simple  and  terrible  laws  which, 
seen  or  unseen,  pervade  and  govern. 

You  will  say  this  is  quite  axiomatic  and  a  little 


NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.          51 

too  true.  I  do  not  find  it  an  agreed  point.  Lit 
erary  men  for  the  most  part  have  a  settled  despair 
as  to  the  realization  of  ideas  in  their  own  time. 
There  is  in  all  students  a  distrust  of  truth,  a  timid 
ity  about  affirming  it ;  a  wish  to  patronize  Provi 
dence. 

We  disown  our  debt  to  moral  evil.  To  science 
there  is  no  poison  ;  to  botany  no  weed  ;  to  chemis 
try  no  dirt.  The  curses  of  malignity  and  despair 
are  important  criticism,  which  must  be  heeded 
until  he  can  explain  and  rightly  silence  them. 

"  Croyez  moi,  I  'erreur  aussi  a  son  me  rite"  said 
Voltaire.  We  see  those  who  surmount  by  dint  of 
egotism  or  infatuation  obstacles  from  which  the 
prudent  recoil.  The  right  partisan  is  a  heady 
man,  who,  because  he  does  not  see  many  things, 
sees  some  one  thing  with  heat  and  exaggeration ; 
and  if  he  falls  among  other  narrow  men,  or  objects 
which  have  a  brief  importance,  prefers  it  to  the  uni 
verse,  and  seems  inspired  and  a  godsend  to  those 
who  wish  to  magnify  the  matter  and  carry  a  point. 
'Tis  the  difference  between  progress  by  railroad 
and  by  walking  across  the  broken  country.  Im 
mense  speed,  but  only  in  one  direction. 

There  are  two  theories  of  life ;  one  for  the  de 
monstration  of  our  talent,  the  other  for  the  educa 
tion  of  the  man.  One  is-  activity,  the  busy-body,  the 


52          NATUEAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

following  of  that  practical  talent  which  we  have,  in 
the  belief  that  what  is  so  natural,  easy  and  pleasant 
to  us  and  desirable  to  others  will  surely  lead  us  out 
safely ;  in  this  direction  lie  usefulness,  comfort,  so 
ciety,  low  power  of  all  sorts.  The  other  is  trust, 
religion,  consent  to  be  nothing  for  eternity,  en 
tranced  waiting,  the  worship  of  ideas.  This  is  soli 
tary,  grand,  secular.  They  are  in  perpetual  bal 
ance  and  strife.  One  is  talent,  the  other  genius. 
One  is  skill,  the  other  character. 

We  are  continually  tempted  to  sacrifice  genius 
to  talent,  the  hope  and  promise  of  insight  to  the 
lust  of  a  freer  demonstration  of  those  gifts  we 
have ;  and  we  buy  this  freedom  to  glitter  by  the 
loss  of  general  health. 

It  is  the  levity  of  this  country  to  forgive  every 
thing  to  talent.  If  a  man  show  cleverness,  rhetori 
cal  skill,  bold  front  in  the  forum  or  the  senate, 
people  clap  their  hands  without  asking  more.  We 
have  a  juvenile  love  of  smartness,  of  showy  speech. 
We  like  faculty  that  can  rapidly  be  coined  into 
money,  and  society  seems  to  be  in  conspiracy  to 
utilize  every  gift  prematurely,  and  pull  down  gen 
ius  to  lucrative  talent.  Every  kind  of  meanness 
and  mischief  is  forgiven  to  intellect.  All  is  con 
doned  if  I  can  write  a  good  song  or  novel. 

Wide  is  the  gulf  between  genius  and  talent. 
The  men  we  know,  poets,  wits,  writers,  deal  with 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         53 

their  thoughts  as  jewellers  with  jewels,  which  they 
sell  but  must  not  wear.  Like  the  carpenter,  who 
gives  up  the  key  of  the  fine  house  he  has  built,  and 
never  enters  it  again. 

There  is  a  conflict  between  a  man's  private  dex 
terity  or  talent  and  his  access  to  the  free  air  and 
light  which  wisdom  is ;  between  wisdom  and  the 
habit  and  necessity  of  repeating  itself  which  be 
longs  to  every  mind.  Peter  is  the  mould  into  which 
everything  is  poured  like  warm  wax,  and  be  it  as 
tronomy  or  railroads  or  French  revolution  or  the 
ology  or  botany,  it  comes  out  Peter.  But  there 
are  quick  limits  to  our  interest  in  the  personality 
of  people.  They  are  as  much  alike  as  their  barns 
and  pantries,  and  are  as  soon  musty  and  dreary. 
They  entertain  us  for  a  time,  but  at  the  second  or 
third  encounter  we  have  nothing  more  to  learn. 

The  daily  history  of  the  Intellect  is  this  alter 
nating  of  expansions  and  concentrations.  The  ex 
pansions  are  the  invitations  from  heaven  to  try  a 
larger  sweep,  a  higher  pitch  than  we  have  yet 
climbed,  and  to  leave  all  our  past  for  this  enlarged 
scope.  Present  power,  on  the  other  hand,  requires 
concentration  on  the  moment  and  the  thing  to  be 
done. 

The  condition  of  sanity  is  to  respect  the  order 
of  the  intellectual  world ;  to  keep  down  talent  in 


54         NATURAL  HISTOKY  OF  INTELLECT. 

its  place,  to  enthrone  the  instinct.  There  must  be 
perpetual  rallying  and  self -recovery.  Each  talent 
is  ambitious  and  self -asserting ;  it  works  for  show 
and  for  the  shop,  and  the  greater  it  grows  the  more 
is  the  mischief  and  the  misleading,  so  that  pres 
ently  all  is  wrong. 

No  wonder  the  children  love  masks  and  cos 
tumes,  and  play  horse,  play  soldier,  play  school, 
play  bear,  and  delight  in  theatricals.  The  children 
have  only  the  instinct  of  the  universe,  in  which 
becoming  somewhat  else  is  the  perpetual  game  of 
nature,  and  death  the  penalty  of  standing  still. 
'T  is  not  less  in  thought.  I  cannot  conceive  any 
good  in  a  thought  which  confines  and  stagnates. 
The  universe  exists  only  in  transit,  or  we  behold  it 
shooting  the  gulf  from  the  past  to  the  future.  We 
are  passing  into  new  heavens  in  fact  by  the  move 
ment  of  our  solar  system,  and  in  thought  by  our 
better  knowledge.  Transition  is  the  attitude  of 
power.  A  fact  is  only  a  fulcrum  of  the  spirit.  It 
is  the  terminus  of  a  past  thought,  but  only  a  means 
now  to  new  sallies  of  the  imagination  and  new 
progress  of  wisdom.  The  habit  of  saliency,  of  not 
pausing  but  proceeding,  is  a  sort  of  importation  and 
domestication  of  the  divine  effort  into  a  man. 
Eoutine,  the  rut,  is  the  path  of  indolence,  of  cows, 
of  sluggish  animal  life ;  as  near  gravitation  as  it 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.          55 

can  go.  But  wit  sees  the  short  way,  puts  together 
what  belongs  together,  custom  or  no  custom ;  in 
that  is  organization. 

Inspiration  is  the  continuation  of  the  divine  ef 
fort  that  built  the  man.  The  same  course  contin 
ues  itself  in  the  mind  which  we  have  witnessed  in 
nature,  namely  the  carrying-on  and  completion  of 
the  metamorphosis  from  grub  to  worm,  from  worm 
to  fly.  In  human  thought  this  process  is  often  ar 
rested  for  years  and  ages.  The  history  of  man 
kind  is  the  history  of  arrested  growth.  This  pre 
mature  stop,  I  know  not  how,  befalls  most  of  us 
in  early  youth ;  as  if  the  growth  of  high  powers, 
the  access  to  rare  truths,  closed  at  two  or  three 
years  in  the  child,  while  all  the  pagan  faculties 
went  ripening  on  to  sixty. 

So  long  as  you  are  capable  of  advance,  so  long 
you  have  not  abdicated  the  hope  and  future  of  a 
divine  soul.  That  wonderful  oracle  will  reply 
when  it  is  consulted,  and  there  is  no  history  or 
tradition,  no  rule  of  life  or  art  or  science,  on 
which  it  is  not  a  competent  and  the  only  compe 
tent  judge. 

Man  was  made  for  conflict,  not  for  rest.  In 
action  is  his  power;  not  in  his  goals  but  in  his 
transitions  man  is  great.  Instantly  he  is  dwarfed 
by  self-indulgence.  The  truest  state  of  mind  rested 
in  becomes  false. 


56         NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT. 

The  spiritual  power  of  man  is  twofold,  mind  and 
heart,  Intellect  and  morals  ;  one  respecting  truth, 
the  other  the  will.  One  is  the  man,  the  other  the 
woman  in  spiritual  nature.  One  is  power,  the 
other  is  love.  These  elements  always  coexist  in 
every  normal  individual,  but  one  predominates. 
And  as  each  is  easily  exalted  in  our  thoughts  till 
it  serves  to  fill  the  universe  and  become  the  syno 
nym  of  God,  the  soul  in  which  one  predominates 
is  ever  watchful  and  jealous  when  such  immense 
claims  are  made  for  one  as  seem  injurious  to  the 
other.  Ideal  and  practical,  like  ecliptic  and  equa 
tor,  are  never  parallel.  Each  has  its  vices,  its 
proper  dangers,  obvious  enough  when  the  opposite 
element  is  deficient. 

Intellect  is  skeptical,  runs  down  into  talent,  self 
ish  working  for  private  ends,  conceited,  ostenta 
tious  and  malignant.  On  the  other  side  the  clear 
headed  thinker  complains  of  souls  led  hither  and 
thither  by  affections  which,  alone,  are  blind  guides 
and  thriftless  workmen,  and  in  the  confusion  asks 
the  polarity  of  intellect.  But  all  great  minds  and 
all  great  hearts  have  mutually  allowed  the  absolute 
necessity  of  the  twain. 

If  the  first  rule  is  to  obey  your  genius,  in  the 
second  place  the  good  mind  is  known  by  the  choice 
of  what  is  positive,  of  what  is  advancing.  We  must 
embrace  the  affirmative.  But  the  affirmative  of 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         57 

affirmatives  is  love.  Quantus  amor  tantus  ani 
mus.  Strength  enters  as  the  moral  element  enters. 
Lovers  of  men  are  as  safe  as  the  sun.  Goodwill 
makes  insight.  Sensibility  is  the  secret  readiness 
to  believe  in  all  kinds  of  power,  and  the  contempt 
of  any  experience  we  have  not  is  the  opposite  pole. 
The  measure  of  mental  health  is  the  disposition  to 
find  good  everywhere,  good  and  order,  analogy, 
health  and  benefit,  —  the  love  of  truth,  tendency  to 
be  in  the  right,  no  fighter  for  victory,  no  cockerel. 

We  have  all  of  us  by  nature  a  certain  divination 
and  parturient  vaticination  in  our  minds  of  some 
higher  good  and  perfection  than  either  power  or 
knowledge.  Knowledge  is  plainly  to  be  preferred 
before  power,  as  being  that  which  guides  and  di 
rects  its  blind  force  and  impetus;  but  Aristotle 
declares  that  the  origin  of  reason  is  not  reason 
but  something  better. 

The  height  of  culture,  the  highest  behavior,  con 
sists  in  the  identification  of  the  Ego  with  the  uni 
verse  ;  so  that  when  a  man  says  I  hope,  I  find, 
I  think,  he  might  properly  say,  The  human  race 
thinks  or  finds  or  hopes.  And  meantime  he  shall 
be  able  continually  to  keep  sight  of  his  biograph 
ical  Ego,  —  I  have  a  desk,  I  have  an  office,  I  am 
hungry,  I  had  an  ague,  —  as  rhetoric  or  offset  to 
his  grand  spiritual  Ego,  without  impertinence,  or 
ever  confounding  them. 


58          NATURAL  HISTOEY  OF  INTELLECT. 

I  may  well  say  this  is  divine,  the  continuation  of 
the  divine  effort.  Alas !  it  seems  not  to  be  ours, 
to  be  quite  independent  of  us.  Often  there  is  so 
little  affinity  between  the  man  and  his  works  that 
we  think  the  wind  must  have  writ  them.  Also  its 
communication  from  one  to  another  follows  its  own 
law  and  refuses  our  intrusion.  It  is  in  one,  it  be 
longs  to  all ;  yet  how  to  impart  it  ? 

We  need  all  our  resources  to  live  in  the  world 
which  is  to  be  used  and  decorated  by  us.  Socrates 
kept  all  his  virtues  as  well  as  his  faculties  well  in 
hand.  He  was  sincerely  humble,  but  he  utilized 
his  humanity  chiefly  as  a  better  eyeglass  to  pene 
trate  the  vapors  that  baffled  the  vision  of  other 
men. 

The  superiority  of  the  man  is  in  the  simplicity 
of  his  thought,  that  he  has  no  obstruction,  but  looks 
straight  at  the  pure  fact,  with  no  color  of  option. 
Profound  sincerity  is  the  only  basis  of  talent  as  of 
character.  The  virtue  of  the  Intellect  is  its  own, 
its  courage  is  of  its  own  kind,  and  at  last  it  will  be 
justified,  though  for  the  moment  it  seem  hostile  to 
what  it  most  reveres. 

We  wish  to  sum  up  the  conflicting  impressions 
by  saying  that  all  point  at  last  to  a  unity  which  in 
spires  all.  Our  poetry,  our  religion  are  its  skirts 


NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INTELLECT.         59 

and  penumbrae.  Yet  the  charm  of  life  is  the  hints 
we  derive  from  this.  They  overcome  us  like  per 
fumes  from  a  far-off  shore  of  sweetness,  and  their 
meaning  is  that  no  tongue  shall  syllable  it  without 
leave ;  that  only  itself  can  name  it ;  that  by  cast 
ing  ourselves  on  it  and  being  its  voice  it  rushes 
each  moment  to  positive  commands,  creating  men 
and  methods,  and  ties  the  will  of  a  child  to  the 
love  of  the  First  Cause. 


MEMORY. 


MEMORY. 


MEMORY  is  a  primary  and  fundamental  faculty, 
without  which  none  other  can  work ;  the  cement, 
the  bitumen,  the  matrix  in  which  the  other  facul 
ties  are  imbedded ;  or  it  is  the  thread  on  which  the 
beads  of  man  are  strung,  making  the  personal 
identity  which  is  necessary  to  moral  action.  With 
out  it  all  life  and  thought  were  an  unrelated  suc 
cession.  As  gravity  holds  matter  from  flying  off 
into  space,  so  memory  gives  stability  to  knowledge ; 
it  is  the  cohesion  which  keeps  things  from  falling 
into  a  lump,  or  flowing  in  waves. 

We  like  longevity,  we  like  signs  of  riches  and 
extent  of  nature  in  an  individual.  And  most  of  all 
we  like  a  great  memory.  The  lowest  life  remem 
bers.  The  sparrow,  the  ant,  the  worm,  have  the 
same  memory  as  we.  If  you  bar  their  path,  or 
offer  them  somewhat  disagreeable  to  their  senses, 
they  make  one  or  two  trials,  and  then  once  for  all 
avoid  it. 

Every  machine  must  be  perfect  of  its  sort.  It 
is  essential  to  a  locomotive  that  it  can  reverse  its 


64  MEMOBY. 

movement,  and  run  backward  and  forward  with 
equal  celerity.  The  builder  of  the  mind  found  it 
not  less  needful  that  it  should  have  retroaction, 
and  command  its  past  act  and  deed.  Perception, 
though  it  were  immense  and  could  pierce  through 
the  universe,  was  not  sufficient. 

Memory  performs  the  impossible  for  man  by  the 
strength  of  his  divine  arms ;  holds  together  past 
and  present,  beholding  both,  existing  in  both, 
abides  in  the  flowing,  and  gives  continuity  and 
dignity  to  human  life.  It  holds  us  to  our  family, 
to  our  friends.  Hereby  a  home  is  possible ;  hereby 
only  a  new  fact  has  value. 

Opportunities  of  investment  are  useful  only  to 
those  who  have  capital.  Any  piece  of  knowledge 
I  acquire  to-day,  a  fact  that  falls  under  my  eyes,  a 
book  I  read,  a  piece  of  news  I  hear,  has  a  value  at 
this  moment  exactly  proportioned  to  my  skill  to 
deal  with  it.  To-morrow,  when  I  know  more,  I 
recall  that  piece  of  knowledge  and  use  it  better. 

The  Past  has  a  new  value  every  moment  to  the 
active  mind,  through  the  incessant  purification  and 
better  method  of  its  memory.  Once  it  joined  its 
facts  by  color  and  form  and  sensuous  relations. 
Some  fact  that  had  a  childish  significance  to  your 
childhood  and  was  a  type  in  the  nursery,  when 
riper  intelligence  recalls  it  means  more  and  serves 
you  better  as  an  illustration  ;  and  perhaps  in  your 


MEMORY.  65 

age  has  new  meaning.  What  was  an  isolated,  un 
related  belief  or  conjecture,  our  later  experience 
instructs  us  how  to  place  in  just  connection  with 
other  views  which  confirm  and  expand  it.  The  old 
whim  or  perception  was  an  augury  of  a  broader  in 
sight,  at  which  we  arrive  later  with  securer  convic 
tion.  This  is  the  companion,  this  the  tutor,  the 
poet,  the  library,  with  which  you  travel.  It  does  not 
lie,  cannot  be  corrupted,  reports  to  you  not  what 
you  wish  but  what  really  befel.  You  say,  "  I  can 
never  think  of  some  act  of  neglect,  of  selfishness, 
or  of  passion  without  pain."  Well,  that  is  as 
it  should  be.  That  is  the  police  of  the  Universe  : 
the  angels  are  set  to  punish  you,  so  long  as  you 
are  capable  of  such  crime.  But  in  the  history  of 
character  the  day  comes  when  you  are  incapable 
of  such  crime.  Then  you  suffer  no  more,  you  look 
on  it  as  heaven  looks  on  it,  with  wonder  at  the 
deed,  and  with  applause  at  the  pain  it  has  cost  you. 
Memory  is  not  a  pocket,  but  a  living  instructor, 
with  a  prophetic  sense  of  the  values  which  he 
guards ;  a  guardian  angel  set  there  within  you  to 
record  your  life,  and  by  recording  to  animate  you 
to  uplift  it.  It  is  a  scripture  written  day  by  day 
from  the  birth  of  the  man ;  all  its  records  full  of 
meanings  which  open  as  he  lives  on,  explaining 
each  other,  explaining  the  world  to  him  and  ex 
panding  their  sense  as  he  advances,  until  it  shall 
become  the  whole  law  of  nature  and  life. 


66  MEMORY. 

As  every  creature  is  furnished  with  teeth  to  seize 
and  eat,  and  with  stomach  to  digest  its  food,  so  the 
memory  is  furnished  with  a  perfect  apparatus. 
There  is  no  book  like  the  memory,  none  with  such 
a  good  index,  and  that  of  every  kind,  alpha 
betic,  systematic,  arranged  by  names  of  persons, 
by  colors,  tastes,  smells,  shapes,  likeness,  unlike- 
ness,  by  all  sorts  of  mysterious  hooks  and  eyes  to 
catch  and  hold,  and  contrivances  for  giving  a  hint. 

The  memory  collects  and  re-collects.  We  figure 
it  as  if  the  mind  were  a  kind  of  looking-glass, 
which  being  carried  through  the  street  of  time  re 
ceives  on  its  clear  plate  every  image  that  passes ; 
only  with  this  difference  that  our  plate  is  iodized 
so  that  every  image  sinks  into  it,  and  is  held  there. 
But  in  addition  to  this  property  it  has  one  more, 
this,  namely,  that  of  all  the  million  images  that  are 
imprinted,  the  very  one  we  want  reappears  in  the 
centre  of  the  plate  in  the  moment  when  we  want  it. 

We  can  tell  much  about  it,  but  you  must  not 
ask  us  what  it  is.  On  seeing  a  face  I  am  aware 
that  I  have  seen  it  before,  or  that  I  have  not  seen 
\t  before.  On  hearing  a  fact  told  I  am  aware  that 
I  knew  it  already.  You  say  the  first  words  of  the 
old  song,  and  I  finish  the  line  and  the  stanza.  But 
where  I  have  them,  or  what  becomes  of  them  when 
I  am  not  thinking  of  them  for  months  and  years, 
that  they  should  lie  so  still,  as  if  they  did  not 


MEMORY.  67 

exist,  and  yet  so  nigh  that  they  come  on  the  in 
stant  when  they  are  called  for,  never  any  man  was 
so  sharp-sighted,  or  could  turn  himself  inside  out 
quick  enough  to  find. 

'T  is  because  of  the  believed  incompatibility  of 
the  affirmative  and  advancing  attitude  of  the  mind 
with  tenacious  acts  of  recollection  that  people  are 
often  reproached  with  living  in  their  memory. 
Late  in  life  we  live  by  memory,  and  in  our  solstices 
or  periods  of  stagnation ;  as  the  starved  camel  in 
the  desert  lives  on  his  humps.  Memory  was  called 
by  the  schoolmen  vespertina  cognitio,  evening 
knowledge,  in  distinction  from  the  command  of 
the  future  which  we  have  by  the  knowledge  of 
causes,  and  which  they  called  matutlna  cognitio, 
or  morning  knowledge. 

Am  I  asked  whether  the  thoughts  clothe  them 
selves  in  words  ?  I  answer,  Yes,  always ;  but  they 
are  apt  to  be  instantly  forgotten.  Never  was  truer 
fable  than  that  of  the  Sibyl's  writing  on  leaves  which 
the  wind  scatters.  The  difference  between  men  is 
that  in  one  the  memory  with  inconceivable  swift 
ness  flies  after  and  re-collects  the  flying  leaves,  — 
flies  on  wing  as  fast  as  that  mysterious  whirlwind, 
and  the  envious  Fate  is  baffled. 

This  command  of  old  facts,  the  clear  beholding 
at  will  of  what  is  best  in  our  experience,  is  our 
splendid  privilege.  "  He  who  calls  what  is  van- 


68  MEMOBY. 

ished  back  again  into  being  enjoys  a  bliss  like  that 
of  creating,"  says  Niebuhr.  The  memory  plays  a 
great  part  in  settling  the  intellectual  rank  of  men. 
We  estimate  a  man  by  how  much  he  remembers. 
A  seneschal  of  Parnassus  is  Mnemosyne.  This 
power  will  alone  make  a  man  remarkable  ;  and  it 
is  found  in  all  good  wits.  Therefore  the  poets 
represented  the  Muses  as  the  daughters  of  Memory, 
for  the  power  exists  in  some  marked  and  eminent 
degree  in  men  of  an  ideal  determination.  Quin- 
tilian  reckoned  it  the  measure  of  genius.  "  Tantum 
ingenii  quantum  memoriae." 

We  are  told  that  Boileau  having  recited  to 
Daguesseau  one  day  an  epistle  or  satire  he  had 
just  been  composing,  Daguesseau  tranquilly  told 
him  he  knew  it  already,  and  in  proof  set  himself 
to  recite  it  from  end  to  end.  Boileau,  astonished, 
was  much  distressed  until  he  perceived  that  it  was 
only  a  feat  of  memory. 

The  mind  disposes  all  its  experience  after  its 
affection  and  to  its  ruling  end ;  one  man  by  puns 
and  one  by  cause  and  effect,  one  to  heroic  benefit 
and  one  to  wrath  and  animal  desire.  This  is  the 
high  difference,  the  quality  of  the  association  by 
which  a  man  remembers.  In  the  minds  of  most 
men  memory  is  nothing  but  a  farm-book  or  a 
pocket-diary.  On  such  a  day  I  paid  my  note  ;  on 
the  next  day  the  cow  calved  ;  on  the  next  I  cut  my 


MEMORY.  69 

finger ;  on  the  next  the  banks  suspended  payment. 
But  another  man's  memory  is  the  history  of  science 
and  art  and  civility  and  thought ;  and  still  another 
deals  with  laws  and  perceptions  that  are  the  theory 
of  the  world. 

This  thread  or  order  of  remembering,  this  classi 
fication,  distributes  men,  one  remembering  by  shop- 
rule  or  interest ;  one  by  passion ;  one  by  trifling 
external  marks,  as  dress  or  money.  And  one  rarely 
takes  an  interest  in  how  the  facts  really  stand,  in 
the  order  of  cause  and  effect,  without  self-refer 
ence.  This  is  an  intellectual  man.  Nature  inter 
ests  him ;  a  plant,  a  fish,  time,  space,  mind,  being, 
in  their  own  method  and  law.  Napoleon  was  such, 
and  that  saves  him. 

But  this  mysterious  power  that  binds  our  life 
together  has  its  own  vagaries  and  interruptions. 
It  sometimes  occurs  that  memory  has  a  personality 
of  its  own,  and  volunteers  or  refuses  its  informa 
tions  at  its  will,  not  at  mine.  One  sometimes  asks 
himself,  Is  it  possible  that  it  is  only  a  visitor,  not 
a  resident  ?  Is  it  some  old  aunt  who  goes  in  and 
out  of  the  house,  and  occasionally  recites  anecdotes 
of  old  times  and  persons  which  I  recognize  as  hav 
ing  heard  before,  and  she  being  gone  again  I 
search  in  vain  for  any  trace  of  the  anecdotes? 

We  can  help  ourselves  to  the  modus  of  mental 
processes  only  by  coarse  material  experiences.  A 


70  MEMOEY. 

knife  with  a  good  spring,  a  forceps  whose  lips 
accurately  meet  and  match,  a  steel-trap,  a  loom,  a 
watch,  the  teeth  or  jaws  of  which  fit  and  play  per 
fectly,  as  compared  with  the  same  tools  when  badly 
put  together,  describe  to  us  the  difference  between 
a  person  of  quick  and  strong  perception,  like  Frank 
lin  or  Swift  or  Webster  or  Kichard  Owen,  and  a 
heavy  man  who  witnesses  the  same  facts  or  shares 
experiences  like  theirs.  'Tis  like  the  impression 
made  by  the  same  stamp  in  sand  or  in  wax.  The 
way  in  which  Burke  or  Sheridan  or  Webster  or 
any  orator  surprises  us  is  by  his  always  having  a 
sharp  tool  that  fits  the  present  use.  He  has  an 
old  story,  an  odd  circumstance,  that  illustrates  the 
point  he  is  now  proving,  and  is  better  than  an  argu 
ment.  The  more  he  is  heated,  the  wider  he  sees ; 
he  seems  to  remember  all  he  ever  knew ;  thus  cer 
tifying  us  that  he  is  in  the  habit  of  seeing  better 
than  other  people ;  that  what  his  mind  grasps  it 
does  not  let  go.  'T  is  the  bull-dog  bite  ;  you  must 
cut  off  the  head  to  loosen  the  teeth. 

We  hate  this  fatal  shortness  of  Memory,  these 
docked  men  whom  we  behold.  We  gathered  up 
what  a  rolling  snow-ball  as  we  came  along,  —  much 
of  it  professedly  for  the  future,  as  capital  stock  of 
knowledge.  Where  is  it  now  ?  Look  behind  you. 
I  cannot  see  that  your  train  is  any  longer  than  it 
was  in  childhood.  The  facts  of  the  last  two  or 


MEMOBY.  71 

three  days  or  weeks  are  all  you  have  with  you,  — 
the  reading  of  the  last  month's  books.  Your  con 
versation,  action,  your  face  and  manners  report  of 
no  more,  of  no  greater  wealth  of  mind.  Alas! 
you  have  lost  something  for  everything  you  have 
gained,  and  cannot  grow.  Only  so  much  iron  will 
the  load-stone  draw ;  it  gains  new  particles  all  the 
way  as  you  move  it,  but  one  falls  off  for  every  one 
that  adheres. 

As  there  is  strength  in  the  wild  horse  which  is 
never  regained  when  he  is  once  broken  by  training, 
and  as  there  is  a  sound  sleep  of  children  and  of 
savages,  profound  as  the  hibernation  of  bears, 
which  never  visits  the  eyes  of  civil  gentlemen  and 
ladies,  so  there  is  a  wild  memory  in  children  and 
youth  which  makes  what  is  early  learned  impossi 
ble  to  forget ;  and  perhaps  in  the  beginning  of  the 
world  it  had  most  vigor.  Plato  deplores  writing 
as  a  barbarous  invention  which  would  weaken  the 
memory  by  disuse.  The  Rhapsodists  in  Athens  it 
seems  could  recite  at  once  any  passage  of  Homer 
that  was  desired. 

If  writing  weakens  the  memory,  we  may  say  as 
much  and  more  of  printing.  What  is  the  news 
paper  but  a  sponge  or  invention  for  oblivion  ?  the 
rule  being  that  for  every  fact  added  to  the  mem 
ory,  one  is  crowded  out,  and  that  only  what  the 
affection  animates  can  be  remembered. 


72  MEMORY. 

The  mind  has  a  better  secret  in  generalization 
than  merely  adding  units  to  its  list  of  facts.  The 
reason  of  the  short  memory  is  shallow  thought.  As 
deep  as  the  thought,  so  great  is  the  attraction.  An 
act  of  the  understanding  will  marshal  and  concate 
nate  a  few  facts  ;  a  principle  of  the  reason  will 
thrill  and  magnetize  and  redistribute  the  whole 
world. 

But  defect  of  memory  is  not  always  want  of 
genius.  By  no  means.  It  is  sometimes  owing  to 
excellence  of  genius.  Thus  men  of  great  presence 
of  mind  who  are  always  equal  to  the  occasion  do 
not  need  to  rely  on  what  they  have  stored  for  use, 
but  can  think  in  this  moment  as  well  and  deeply 
as  in  any  past  moment,  and  if  they  cannot  remem 
ber  the  rule  they  can  make  one.  Indeed  it  is 
remarked  that  inventive  men  have  bad  memories. 
Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  embarrassed  when  the  con 
versation  turned  on  his  discoveries  and  results ;  he 
could  not  recall  them ;  but  if  he  was  asked  why 
things  were  so  or  so  he  could  find  the  reason  on 
the  spot. 

A  man  would  think  twice  about  learning  a  new 
science  or  reading  a  new  paragraph,  if  he  believed 
the  magnetism  was  only  a  constant  amount,  and 
that  he  lost  a  word  or  a  thought  for  every  word  he 
gained.  But  the  experience  is  not  quite  so  bad. 
In  reading  a  foreign  language,  every  new  word 


MEMORY.  73 

mastered  is  a  lamp  lighting  up  related  words  and 
so  assisting  the  memory.  Apprehension  of  the 
whole  sentence  aids  to  fix  the  precise  meaning  of  a 
particular  word,  and  what  familiarity  has  been  ac 
quired  with  the  genius  of  the  language  and  the 
writer  helps  in  fixing  the  exact  meaning  of  the 
sentence.  So  is  it  with  every  fact  in  a  new  science  : 
they  are  mutually  explaining,  and  each  one  adds 
transparency  to  the  whole  mass. 

The  damages  of  forgetting  are  more  than  com 
pensated  by  the  large  values  which  new  thoughts 
and  knowledge  give  to  what  we  already  know.  If 
new  impressions  sometimes  efface  old  ones,  yet  we 
steadily  gain  insight ;  and  because  all  nature  has 
one  law  and  meaning,  —  part  corresponding  to 
part,  —  all  we  have  known  aids  us  continually  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  rest  of  nature.  Thus,  all 
the  facts  in  this  chest  of  memory  are  property  at 
interest.  And  who  shall  set  a  boundary  to  this 
mounting  value?  Shall  we  not  on  higher  stages 
of  being  remember  and  understand  our  early  his 
tory  better  ? 

They  say  in  Architecture,  "  An  arch  never 
sleeps ; "  I  say,  the  Past  will  not  sleep,  it  works 
still.  With  every  new  fact  a  ray  of  light  shoots 
up  from  the  long  buried  years.  Who  can  judge 
the  new  book?  He  who  has  read  many  books. 
Who,  the  new  assertion  ?  He  who  has  heard  many 


74  MEMORY. 

the  like.  Who,  the  new  man  ?  He  that  has  seen 
men.  The  experienced  and  cultivated  man  is 
lodged  in  a  hall  hung  with  pictures  which  every 
new  day  retouches,  and  to  which  every  step  in  the 
march  of  the  soul  adds  a  more  sublime  perspec 
tive. 

We  learn  early  that  there  is  great  disparity  of 
value  between  our  experiences;  some  thoughts 
perish  in  the  using.  Some  days  are  bright  with 
thought  and  sentiment,  and  we  live  a  year  in  a 
day.  Yet  these  best  days  are  not  always  those 
which  memory  can  retain.  This  water  once  spilled 
cannot  be  gathered.  There  are  more  inventions 
in  the  thoughts  of  one  happy  day  than  ages  could 
execute,  and  I  suppose  I  speak  the  sense  of  most 
thoughtful  men  when  I  say,  I  would  rather  have 
a  perfect  recollection  of  all  I  have  thought  and 
felt  in  a  day  or  a  week  of  high  activity  than  read 
all  the  books  that  have  been  published  in  a  cen 
tury. 

The  memory  is  one  of  the  compensations  which 
Nature  grants  to  those  who  have  used  their  days 
well ;  when  age  and  calamity  have  bereaved  them 
of  their  limbs  or  organs,  then  they  retreat  on  men 
tal  faculty  and  concentrate  on  that.  The  poet,  the 
philosopher,  lamed,  old,  blind,  sick,  yet  disputing 
the  ground  inch  by  inch  against  fortune,  finds  a 
strength  against  the  wrecks  and  decays  sometimes 


MEMORY.  75 

more  invulnerable  than  the  heyday  of  youth  and 
talent. 

I  value  the  praise  of  Memory.  And  how  does 
Memory  praise?  By  holding  fast  the  best.  A 
thought  takes  its  true  rank  in  the  memory  by  sur 
viving  other  thoughts  that  were  once  preferred. 
Plato  remembered  Anaxagoras  by  one  of  his  say 
ings.  If  we  recall  our  own  favorites  we  shall  usu 
ally  find  that  it  is  for  one  crowning  act  or  thought 
that  we  hold  them  dear. 

Have  you  not  found  memory  an  apotheosis  or 
deification  ?  The  poor,  short  lone  fact  dies  at  the 
birth.  Memory  catches  it  up  into  her  heaven, 
and  bathes  it  in  immortal  waters.  Then  a  thou 
sand  times  over  it  lives  and  acts  again,  each  time 
transfigured,  ennobled.  In  solitude,  in  darkness, 
we  tread  over  again  the  sunny  walks  of  youth; 
confined  now  in  populous  streets  you  behold  again 
the  green  fields,  the  shadows  of  the  gray  birches  ; 
by  the  solitary  river  hear  again  the  joyful  voices 
of  early  companions,  and  vibrate  anew  to  the  ten 
derness  and  dainty  music  of  the  poetry  your  boy 
hood  fed  upon.  At  this  hour  the  stream  is  still 
flowing,  though  you  hear  it  not;  the  plants  are 
still  drinking  their  accustomed  life  and  repaying 
it  with  their  beautiful  forms.  But  you  need  not 
wander  thither.  It  flows  for  you,  and  they  grow 
for  you,  in  the  returning  images  of  former  sum- 


76  MEMORY. 

mers.  In  low  or  bad  company  you  fold  yourself  in 
your  cloak,  withdraw  yourself  entirely  from  all  the 
doleful  circumstance,  recall  and  surround  yourself 
with  the  best  associates  and  the  fairest  hours  of 
your  life :  — 

"  Passing  sweet  are  the  domains  of  tender  memory." 

You  may  perish  out  of  your  senses,  but  not  out  of 
your  memory  or  imagination. 

The  memory  has  a  fine  art  of  sifting  out  the 
pain  and  keeping  all  the  joy.  The  spring  days 
when  the  bluebird  arrives  have  usually  only  few 
hours  of  fine  temperature,  are  sour  and  unlovely ; 
but  when  late  in  autumn  we  hear  rarely  a  blue 
bird's  notes  they  are  sweet  by  reminding  us  of  the 
spring.  Well,  it  is  so  with  other  tricks  of  memory. 
Of  the  most  romantic  fact  the  memory  is  more  ro 
mantic  ;  and  this  power  of  sinking  the  pain  of  any 
experience  and  of  recalling  the  saddest  with  tran 
quillity,  and  even  with  a  wise  pleasure,  is  familiar. 
The  memory  is  as  the  affection.  Sampson  Keed 
says,  "  The  true  way  to  store  the  memory  is  to 
develop  the  affections."  A  souvenir  is  a  token  of 
love.  Remember  me  means,  Do  not  cease  to  love 
me.  We  remember  those  things  which  we  love 
and  those  things  which  we  hate.  The  memory  of 
all  men  is  robust  on  the  subject  of  a  debt  due  to 
them,  or  of  an  insult  inflicted  on  them.  "  They 


MEMORY.  77 

can  remember,"  as  Johnson  said,  "  who  kicked 
them  last." 

Every  artist  is  alive  on  the  subject  of  his  art. 
The  Persians  say,  "  A  real  singer  will  never  forget 
the  song  he  has  once  learned."  Michael  Angelo, 
after  having  once  seen  a  work  of  any  other  artist, 
would  remember  it  so  perfectly  that  if  it  pleased 
him  to  make  use  of  any  portion  thereof,  he  could 
do  so,  but  in  such  a  manner  that  none  could  per. 
ceive  it. 

We  remember  what  we  understand,  and  we 
understand  best  what  we  like  ;  for  this  doubles 
our  power  of  attention,  and  makes  it  our  own. 
Captain  John  Brown,  of  Ossawatomie,  said  he  had 
in  Ohio  three  thousand  sheep  on  his  farm,  and 
could  tell  a  strange  sheep  in  his  flock  as  soon  as  he 
saw  its  face.  One  of  my  neighbors,  a  grazier,  told 
me  that  he  should  know  again  every  cow,  ox,  or 
steer  that  he  ever  saw.  Abel  Lawton  knew  every 
horse  that  went  up  and  down  through  Concord  to 
the  towns  in  the  county.  And  in  higher  examples 
each  man's  memory  is  in  the  line  of  his  action. 

Nature  trains  us  on  to  see  illusions  and  prodi 
gies  with  no  more  wonder  than  our  toast  and  ome 
let  at  breakfast.  Talk  of  memory  and  cite  me 
these  fine  examples  of  Grotius  and  Daguesseau, 
and  I  think  how  awful  is  that  power  and  what 
privilege  and  tyranny  it  must  confer.  Then  I 


78  MEMORY. 

come  to  a  bright  school-girl  who  remembers  all  she 
hears,  carries  thousands  of  nursery  rhymes  and  all 
the  poetry  in  all  the  readers,  hymn-books,  and  pic 
torial  ballads  in  her  mind ;  and  't  is  a  mere  drug. 
She  carries  it  so  carelessly,  it  seems  like  the  pro 
fusion  of  hair  on  the  shock  heads  of  all  the  village 
boys  and  village  dogs ;  it  grows  like  grass.  'T  is 
a  bushel-basket  memory  of  all  unchosen  knowledge, 
heaped  together  in  a  huge  hamper,  without  method, 
yet  securely  held,  and  ready  to  come  at  call ;  so 
that  an  old  scholar,  who  knows  what  to  do  with  a 
memory,  is  full  of  wonder  and  pity  that  this  magi 
cal  force  should  be  squandered  on  such  frippery. 

He  is  a  skilful  doctor  who  can  give  me  a  recipe 
for  the  cure  of  a  bad  memory.  And  yet  we  have 
some  hints  from  experience  on  this  subject.  And 
first,  health.  It  is  found  that  we  remember  best 
when  the  head  is  clear,  when  we  are  thoroughly 
awake.  When  the  body  is  in  a  quiescent  state  in 
the  absence  of  the  passions,  in  the  moderation  of 
food,  it  yields  itself  a  willing  medium  to  the  intel 
lect.  For  the  true  river  Lethe  is  the  body  of  man, 
with  its  belly  and  uproar  of  appetite  and  moun 
tains  of  indigestion  and  bad  humors  and  quality  of 
darkness.  And  for  this  reason,  and  observing  some 
mysterious  continuity  of  mental  operation  during 
sleep  or  when  our  will  is  suspended,  't  is  an  old 
rule  of  scholars,  that  which  Fuller  records,  "  'T  is 


MEMOEY.  79 

best  knocking  in  the  nail  overnight  and  clinching 
it  next  morning."  Only  I  should  give  extension 
to  this  rule  and  say  Yes,  drive  the  nail  this  week 
and  clinch  it  the  next,  and  drive  it  this  year  and 
clinch  it  the  next. 

But  Fate  also  is  an  artist.  We  forget  also 
according  to  beautiful  laws.  Thoreau  said,  "  Of 
what  significance  are  the  things  you  can  forget. 
A  little  thought  is  sexton  to  all  the  world." 

We  must  be  severe  with  ourselves,  and  what  we 
wish  to  keep  we  must  once  thoroughly  possess. 
Then  the  thing  seen  will  no  longer  be  what  it  was, 
a  mere  sensuous  object  before  the  eye  or  ear,  but  a 
reminder  of  its  law,  a  possession  for  the  intellect. 
Then  we  relieve  ourselves  of  all  task  in  the  matter, 
we  put  the  onus  of  being  remembered  on  the  ob 
ject,  instead  of  on  our  will.  We  shall  do  as  we  do 
with  all  our  studies,  prize  the  fact  or  the  name  of 
the  person  by  that  predominance  it  takes  in  our 
mind  after  near  acquaintance.  I  have  several  times 
forgotten  the  name  of  Flamsteed,  never  that  of 
Newton  ;  and  can  drop  easily  many  poets  out  of  the 
Elizabethan  chronology,  but  not  Shakespeare. 

We  forget  rapidly  what  should  be  forgotten. 
The  universal  sense  of  fables  and  anecdotes  is 
marked  by  our  tendency  to  forget  name  and  date 
and  geography.  "  How  in  the  right  are  children," 
said  Margaret  Fuller,  "  to  forget  name  and  date 
and  place." 


80  MEMORY. 

You  cannot  overstate  our  debt  to  the  past,  but 
has  the  present  no  claim?  This  past  memory  is 
the  baggage,  but  where  is  the  troop  ?  The  divine 
gift  is  not  the  old  but  the  new.  The  divine  is  the 
instant  life  that  receives  and  uses,  the  life  that  can 
well  bury  the  old  in  the  omnipotency  with  which  it 
makes  all  things  new. 

The  acceleration  of  mental  process  is  equivalent 
to  the  lengthening  of  life.  If  a  great  many 
thoughts  pass  through  your  mind  you  will  believe 
a  long  time  has  elapsed,  many  hours  or  days.  In 
dreams  a  rush  of  many  thoughts,  of  seeming  expe 
riences,  of  spending  hours  and  going  through  a 
great  variety  of  actions  and  companies,  and  when 
we  start  up  and  look  at  the  watch,  instead  of  a  long 
night  we  are  surprised  to  find  it  was  a  short  nap. 
The  opium-eater  says,  "  I  sometimes  seemed  to  have 
lived  seventy  or  a  hundred  years  in  one  night." 
You  know  what  is  told  of  the  experience  of  some 
persons  who  have  been  recovered  from  drowning. 
They  relate  that  their  whole  life's  history  seemed 
to  pass  before  them  in  review.  They  remembered 
in  a  moment  all  that  they  ever  did. 

If  we  occupy  ourselves  long  on  this  wonderful 
faculty,  and  see  the  natural  helps  of  it  in  the  mind, 
and  the  way  in  which  new  knowledge  calls  upon  old 
knowledge  —  new  giving  undreamed-of  value  to  old ; 
everywhere  relation  and  suggestion,  so  that  what 


MEMORY.  81 

one  had  painfully  held  by  strained  attention  and 
recapitulation  now  falls  into  place  and  is  clamped 
and  locked  by  inevitable  connection  as  a  planet  in 
its  orbit  (every  other  orb,  or  the  law  or  system  of 
which  it  is  a  part,  being  a  perpetual  reminder),  — 
we  cannot  fail  to  draw  thence  a  sublime  hint  that 
thus  there  must  be  an  endless  increase  in  the  power 
of  memory  only  through  its  use ;  that  there  must 
be  a  proportion  between  the  power  of  memory  and 
the  amount  of  knowables  ;  and  since  the  Universe 
opens  to  us,  the  reach  of  the. memory  must  be  as 
large. 

With  every  broader  generalization  which  the 
mind  makes,  with  every  deeper  insight,  its  retro 
spect  is  also  wider.  With  every  new  insight  into 
the  duty  or  fact  of  to-day  we  come  into  new  posses 
sion  of  the  past. 

When  we  live  by  principles  instead  of  traditions, 
by  obedience  to  the  law  of  the  mind  instead  of  by 
passion,  the  Great  Mind  will  enter  into  us,  not  as 
now  in  fragments  and  detached  thoughts,  but  the 
light  of  to-day  will  shine  backward  and  forward. 

Memory  is  a  presumption  of  a  possession  of  the 
future.  Now  we  are  halves,  we  see  the  past  but 
not  the  future,  but  in  that  day  will  the  hemisphere 
complete  itself  and  foresight  be  as  perfect  as  after- 
sight. 


BOSTON. 


"  We  are  citizens  of  two  fair  cities,"  said  the  Genoese 
gentleman  to  a  Florentine  artist,  "  and  if  I  were  not  a 
Genoese,  I  should  wish  to  be  Florentine."  "And  I," 
replied  the  artist,  "  if  I  were  not  Florentine  "  —  "  You 
would  wish  to  be  Genoese,"  said  the  other.  "  No,"  re 
plied  the  artist,  "  I  should  wish  to  be  Florentine." 


THE  rocky  nook  with  hill-tops  three 
Looked  eastward  from  the  farms, 

And  twice  each  day  the  flowing  sea 
Took  Boston  in  its  arms. 

The  sea  returning  day  by  day 
Restores  the  world-wide  mart ; 

So  let  each  dweller  on  the  Bay 
Fold  Boston  in  his  heart. 

Let  the  blood  of  her  hundred  thousands 

Throb  in  each  manly  vein, 
And  the  wits  of  all  her  wisest 

Make  sunshine  in  her  brain. 

And  each  shall  care  for  other, 
And  each  to  each  shall  bend, 

To  the  poor  a  noble  brother, 
To  the  good  an  equal  friend. 

A  blessing  through  the  ages  thus 
Shield  all  thy  roofs  and  towers  ! 

GOD  WITH  THE  FATHERS,  SO  WITH  US, 

Thou  darling  town  of  ours  ! 


BOSTON. 


THE  old  physiologists  said,  "  There  is  in  the  air 
a  hidden  food  of  life  ;  "  and  they  watched  the  effect 
of  different  climates.  They  believed  the  air  of 
mountains  and  the  seashore  a  potent  predisposer 
to  rebellion.  The  air  was  a  good  republican,  and 
it  was  remarked  tha,t  insulary  people  are  versatile 
and  addicted  to  change,  both  in  religious  and  secu 
lar  affairs. 

The  air  that  we  breathe  is  an  exhalation  of  all 
the  solid  material  globe.  An  aerial  fluid  streams 
all  day,  all  night,  from  every  flower  and  leaf,  from 
every  water  and  soil,  from  every  rock-ledge ;  and 
from  every  stratum  a  different  aroma  and  air  ac 
cording  to  its  quality.  According  to  quality  and 
according  to  temperature,  it  must  have  effect  on 
manners. 

There  is  the  climate  of  the  Sahara :  a  climate 
where  the  sunbeams  are  vertical ;  where  is  day  af 
ter  day,  sunstroke  after  sunstroke,  with  a  frosty 
shadow  between.  "There  are  countries,"  said 


86  BOSTON. 

Howell,  "  where  the  heaven  is  a  fiery  furnace,  or 
a  blowing  bellows,  or  a  dropping  sponge,  most 
parts  of  the  year."  Such  is  the  assimilating  force 
of  the  Indian  climate,  that,  Sir  Erskine  Perry 
says,  "  the  usage  and  opinion  of  the  Hindoos  so  in 
vades  men  of  all  castes  and  colors  who  deal  with 
them  that  all  take  a  Hindoo  tint.  Parsee,  Mongol, 
Afghan,  Israelite,  Christian,  have  all  passed  under 
this  influence  and  exchanged  a  good  part  of  their 
patrimony  of  ideas  for  the  notions,  manner  of  see 
ing,  and  habitual  tone  of  Indian  society."  He 
compares  it  to  the  geologic  phenomenon  which  the 
black  soil  of  the  Dhakkan  offers,  —  the  property, 
namely,  of  assimilating  to  itself  every  foreign  sub 
stance  introduced  into  its  bosom. 

How  can  we  not  believe  in  influences  of  climate 
and  air,  when,  as  true  philosophers,  we  must  be 
lieve  that  chemical  atoms  also  have  their  spiritual 
cause  why  they  are  thus  and  not  other ;  that  car 
bon,  oxygen,  alum  and  iron,  each  has  its  origin  in 
spiritual  nature  ? 

Even  at  this  day  men  are  to  be  found  supersti 
tious  enough  to  believe  that  to  certain  spots  on  the 
surface  of  the  planet  special  powers  attach,  and  an 
exalted  influence  on  the  genius  of  man.  And  it 
appears  as  if  some  localities  of  the  earth,  through 
wholesome  springs,  or  as  the  habitat  of  rare  plants 
and  minerals,  or  through  ravishing  beauties  of  Na- 


BOSTON.  87 

ture,  were  preferred  before  others.  There  is  great 
testimony  of  discriminating  persons  to  the  effect 
that  Rome  is  endowed  with  the  enchanting  prop 
erty  of  inspiring  a  longing  in  men  there  to  live  and 
there  to  die. 

Who  lives  one  year  in  Boston  ranges  through 
all  the  climates  of  the  globe.  And  if  the  character 
of  the  people  has  a  larger  range  and  greater  versa 
tility,  causing  them  to  exhibit  equal  dexterity  in- 
what  are  elsewhere  reckoned  incompatible  works, 
perhaps  they  may  thank  their  climate  of  extremes, 
which  at  one  season  gives  them  the  splendor  of  the 
equator  and  a  touch  of  Syria,  and  then  runs  down 
to  a  cold  which  approaches  the  temperature  of  the 
celestial  spaces. 

It  is  not  &  country  of  luxury  or  of  pictures  ;  of 
snows  rather,  of  east-winds  and  changing  skies  ; 
visited  by  icebergs,  which,  floating  by,  nip  with 
their  cool  breath  our  blossoms.  Not  a  luxurious 
climate,  but  wisdom  is  not  found  with  those  who 
dwell  at  their  ease.  Give  me  a  climate  where  peo 
ple  think  well  and  construct  well,  —  I  will  spend 
six  months  there,  and  you  may  have  all  the  rest  of 
my  years. 

What  Vasari  says,  three  hundred  years  ago,  of 
the  republican  city  of  Florence  might  be  said  of 
Boston  ;  "  that  the  desire  for  glory  and  honor  is 


88  BOSTON. 

powerfully  generated  by  the  air  of  that  place,  in 
the  men  of  every  profession  ;  whereby  all  who  pos 
sess  talent  are  impelled  to  struggle  that  they  may 
not  remain  in  the  same  grade  with  those  whom  they 
perceive  to  be  only  men  like  themselves,  even 
though  they  may  acknowledge  such  indeed  to  be 
masters  ;  but  all  labor  by  every  means  to  be  fore 
most." 

We  find  no  less  stimulus  in  our  native  air ;  not 
less  ambition  in  our  blood,  which  Puritanism  has 
not  sufficiently  chastised ;  and  at  least  an  equal 
freedom  in  our  laws  and  customs,  with  as  many 
and  as  tempting  rewards  to  toil ;  with  so  many  phi 
lanthropies,  humanities,  charities,  soliciting  us  to 
be  great  and  good. 

New  England  is  a  sort  of  Scotland.  'T  is  hard 
to  say  why.  Climate  is  much  ;  then,  old  accumu 
lation  of  the  means,  —  books,  schools,  colleges,  lit 
erary  society ;  —  as  New  Bedford  is  not  nearer  to 
the  whales  than  New  London  or  Portland,  yet  they 
have  all  the  equipments  for  a  whaler  ready,  and 
they  hug  an  oil-cask  like  a  brother. 

I  do  not  know  that  Charles  River  or  Merrimac 
water  is  more  clarifying  to  the  brain  than  the  Sa 
vannah  or  Alabama  rivers,  yet  the  men  that  drink 
it  get  up  earlier,  and  some  of  the  morning  light 
lasts  through  the  day.  I  notice  that  they  who 
drink  for  some  little  time  of  the  Potomac  water 


BOSTON.  89 

lose  their  relish  for  the  water  of  the  Charles  River, 
of  the  Merrimac  and  the  Connecticut,  —  even  of 
the  Hudson.  I  think  the  Potomac  water  is  a  little 
acrid,  and  should  be  corrected  by  copious  infusions 
of  these  provincial  streams. 

Of  great  cities  you  cannot  compute  the  influ 
ences.  In  New  York,  in  Montreal,  New  Orleans 
and  the  farthest  colonies,  —  in  Guiana,  in  Guada- 
loupe,  —  a  middle-aged  gentleman  is  just  embarking 
with  all  his  property  to  fulfil  the  dream  of  his  life 
and  spend  his  old  age  in  Paris ;  so  that  a  fortune 
falls  into  the  massive  wealth  of  that  city  every  day 
in  the  year.  Astronomers  come  because  there  they 
can  find  apparatus  and  companions.  Chemist,  ge 
ologist,  artist,  musician,  dancer,  because  there  only 
are  grandees  and  their  patronage,  appreciators  and 
patrons.  Demand  and  supply  run  into  every  invis 
ible  and  unnamed  province  of  whim  and  passion. 

Each  great  city  gathers  these  values  and  de 
lights  for  mankind,  and  comes  to  be  the  brag  of  its 
age  and  population.  The  Greeks  thought  him  un 
happy  who  died  without  seeing  the  statue  of  Jove 
at  Olympia.  With  still  more  reason,  they  praised 
Athens,  the  "  Violet  City."  It  was  said  of  Rome 
in  its  proudest  days,  looking  at  the  vast  radiation 
of  the  privilege  of  Roman  citizenship  through  the 
then-known  world,  —  "  the  extent  of  the  city  and 
of  the  world  is  the  same  "  (spatium  et  urbis  et 


90  BOSTON. 

orbis  idem).  London  now  for  a  thousand  years 
has  been  in  an  affirmative  or  energizing  mood ;  has 
not  stopped  growing.  Linnseus,  like  a  naturalist, 
esteeming  the  globe  a  big  egg,  called  London  the 
punctum  saliens  in  the  yolk  of  the  world. 

This  town  of  Boston  has  a  history.  It  is  not  an 
accident,  not  a  windmill,  or  a  railroad  station,  or 
cross-roads  tavern,  or  an  army-barracks  grown  up 
by  time  and  luck  to  a  place  of  wealth ;  but  a  seat 
of  humanity,  of  men  of  principle,  obeying  a  senti 
ment  and  marching  loyally  whither  that  should 
lead  them ;  so  that  its  annals  are  great  historical 
lines,  inextricably  national ;  part  of  the  history  of 
political  liberty.  I  do  not  speak  with  any  fond 
ness,  but  the  language  of  coldest  history,  when  I 
say  that  Boston  commands  attention  as  the  town 
which  was  appointed  in  the  destiny  of  nations  to 
lead  the  civilization  of  North  America. 

A  capital  fact  distinguishing  this  colony  from  all 
other  colonies  was  that  the  persons  composing  it 
consented  to  come  on  the  one  condition  that  the 
charter  should  be  transferred  from  the  company  in 
England  to  themselves;  and  so  they  brought  the 
government  with  them. 

On  the  3d  of  November,  1620,  King  James  in 
corporated  forty  of  his  subjects,  Sir  F.  Gorges  and 
others,  the  council  established  at  Plymouth  in  the 


BOSTON.  91 

county  of  Devon  for  the  planting,  ruling,  ordering 
and  governing  of  New  England  in  America.  The 
territory  —  conferred  on  the  patentees  in  absolute 
property,  with  unlimited  jurisdiction,  the  sole 
power  of  legislation,  the  appointment  of  all  officers 
and  all  forms  of  government  —  extended  from  the 
40th  to  the  48th  degree  of  north  latitude,  and  in 
length  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific. 

John  Smith  writes  (1624)  :  "  Of  all  the  four 
parts  of  the  world  that  I  have  yet  seen  not  inhab 
ited,  could  I  but  have  means  to  transplant  a  colony, 
I  would  rather  live  here  than  anywhere  ;  and  if  it 
did  not  maintain  itself,  were  we  but  once  indiffer 
ently  well  fitted,  let  us  starve.  Here  are  many 
isles  planted  with  corn,  groves,  mulberries,  salvage 
gardens  and  good  harbours.  The  sea-coast  as  you 
pass  shows  you  all  along  large  cornfields  and  great 
troops  of  well-proportioned  people."  Massachusetts 
in  particular,  he  calls  "  the  paradise  of  these  parts," 
notices  its  high  mountain,  and  its  river,  "  which  doth 
pierce  many  days'  journey  into  the  entrails  of  that 
country."  Morton  arrived  in  1622,  in  June,  beheld 
the  country,  and  "  the  more  he  looked,  the  more  he 
liked  it." 

In  sixty-eight  years  after  the  foundation  of  Bos 
ton,  Dr.  Mather  writes  of  it,  "  The  town  hath  in 
deed  three  elder  Sisters  in  this  colony,  but  it  hath 
wonderfully  outgrown  them  all,  and  her  mother, 


92  BOSTON. 

Old  Boston  in  England,  also  ;  yea,  within  a  few 
years  after  the  first  settlement  it  grew  to  be  the 
metropolis  of  the  whole  English  America." 

How  easy  it  is,  after  the  city  is  built,  to  see 
where  it  ought  to  stand.  In  our  beautiful  bay,  with 
its  broad  and  deep  waters  covered  with  sails  from 
every  port ;  with  its  islands  hospitably  shining  in 
the  sun ;  with  its  waters  bounded  and  marked  by 
light-houses,  buoys  and  sea-marks ;  every  foot 
sounded  and  charted ;  with  its  shores  trending 
steadily  from  the  two  arms  which  the  capes  of 
Massachusetts  stretch  out  to  sea,  down  to  the  bot 
tom  of  the  bay  where  the  city  domes  and  spires 
sparkle  through  the  haze,  —  a  good  boatman  can 
easily  find  his  way  for  the  first  time  to  the  State 
House,  and  wonder  that  Governor  Carver  had  not 
better  eyes  than  to  stop  on  the  Plymouth  Sands. 

But  it  took  ten  years  to  find  this  out.  The  col 
ony  of  1620  had  landed  at  Plymouth.  It  was  De 
cember,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  snow. 
Snow  and  moonlight  make  all  places  alike  ;  and 
the  weariness  of  the  sea,  the  shrinking  from  cold 
weather  and  the  pangs  of  hunger  must  justify 
them. 

But  the  next  colony  planted  itself  at  Salem,  and 
the  next  at  Weymouth  ;  another  at  Medford  ;  be 
fore  these  men,  instead  of  jumping  on  to  the  first 
land  that  offered,  wisely  judged  that  the  best  point 


BOSTON.  93 

for  a  city  was  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  and  islanded 
bay,  where  a  copious  river  entered  it,  and  where 
a  bold  shore  was  bounded  by  a  country  of  rich 
undulating  woodland. 

The  planters  of  Massachusetts  do  not  appear  to 
have  been  hardy  men,  rather,  comfortable  citizens, 
not  at  all  accustomed  to  the  rough  task  of  discov 
erers  ;  and  they  exaggerated  their  troubles.  Bears 
and  wolves  were  many;  but  early,  they  believed 
there  were  lions  ;  Monadnoc  was  burned  over  to 
kill  them.  John  Smith  was  stung  near  to  death  by 
the  most  poisonous  tail  of  a  fish,  called  a  sting-ray. 
In  the  journey  of  Rev.  Peter  Bulkeley  and  his 
company  through  the  forest  from  Boston  to  Con 
cord  they  fainted  from  the  powerful  odor  of  the 
sweetf ern  in  the  sun ;  —  like  what  befell,  still  ear 
lier,  Biorn  and  Thorfinn,  Northmen,  in  their  expe 
dition  to  the  same  coast ;  who  ate  so  many  grapes 
from  the  wild  vines  that  they  were  reeling  drunk. 
The  lions  have  never  appeared  since,  —  nor  before. 
Their  crops  suffered  from  pigeons  and  mice.  Na 
ture  has  never  again  indulged  in  these  exaspera 
tions.  It  seems  to  have  been  the  last  outrage  ever 
committed  by  the  sting-rays  or  by  the  sweetfern, 
or  by  the  fox-grapes ;  they  have  been  of  peaceable 
behavior  ever  since. 

Any  geologist  or  engineer  is  accustomed  to  face 


94  BOSTON. 

more  serious  dangers  than  any  enumerated,  except 
ing  the  hostile  Indians.  But  the  awe  was  real  and 
overpowering  in  the  superstition  with  which  every 
new  object  was  magnified.  The  superstition  which 
hung  over  the  new  ocean  had  not  yet  been  scat 
tered  ;  the  powers  of  the  savage  were  not  known ; 
the  dangers  of  the  wilderness  were  unexplored; 
and,  in  that  time,  terrors  of  witchcraft,  terrors  of 
evil  spirits,  and  a  certain  degree  of  terror  still 
clouded  the  idea  of  God  in  the  mind  of  the  purest. 

The  divine  will  descends  into  the  barbarous  mind 
in  some  strange  disguise ;  its  pure  truth  not  to  be 
guessed  from  the  rude  vizard  under  which  it  goes 
masquerading.  The  common  eye  cannot  tell  what 
the  bird  will  be,  from  the  egg,  nor  the  pure  truth 
from  the  grotesque  tenet  which  sheathes  it.  But 
by  some  secret  tie  it  holds  the  poor  savage  to  it, 
and  he  goes  muttering  his  rude  ritual  or  mythol 
ogy,  which  yet  conceals  some  grand  commandment ; 
as  courage,  veracity,  honesty,  or  chastity  and  gen 
erosity. 

So  these  English  men,  with  the  Middle  Ages 
still  obscuring  their  reason,  were  filled  with  Chris 
tian  thought.  They  had  a  culture  of  their  own. 
They  read  Milton,  Thomas  a  Kempis,  Bunyan  and 
Flavel  with  religious  awe  and  delight,  not  for  en 
tertainment.  They  were  precisely  the  idealists  of 
England  ;  the  most  religious  in  a  religious  era.  An 


BOSTON.  95 

old  lady  who  remembered  these  pious  people  said 
of  them  that  "they  had  to  hold  on  hard  to  the 
huckleberry  bushes  to  hinder  themselves  from  be 
ing  translated." 

In  our  own  age  we  are  learning  to  look  as  on 
chivalry  at  the  sweetness  of  that  ancient  piety 
which  makes  the  genius  of  St.  Bernard,  Latimer, 
Scougal,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Herbert,  and  Leighton. 
Who  can  read  the  fiery  ejaculations  of  St.  Augus 
tine,  a  man  of  as  clear  a  sight  as  almost  any  other ; 
of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  of  Milton,  of  Bunyan  even, 
without  feeling  how  rich  and  expansive  a  culture  — 
not  so  much  a  culture  as  a  higher  life  —  they  owed 
to  the  promptings  of  this  sentiment ;  without  con 
trasting  their  immortal  heat  with  the  cold  complex 
ion  of  our  recent  wits  ?  Who  can  read  the  pious 
diaries  of  the  Englishmen  in  the  time  of  the  Com 
monwealth  and  later,  without  a  sigh  that  we  write 
no  diaries  to-day?  Who  shall  restore  to  us  the 
odoriferous  Sabbaths  which  made  the  earth  and  the 
humble  roof  a  sanctity  ? 

This  spirit,  of  course,  involved  that  of  Stoicism, 
as,  in  its  turn,  Stoicism  did  this.  Yet  how  much 
more  attractive  and  true  that  this  piety  should  be 
the  central  trait  and  the  stern  virtues  follow,  than 
that  Stoicism  should  face  the  gods  and  put  Jove  on 
his  defence.  That  piety  is  a  refutation  of  every 
skeptical  doubt.  These  men  are  a  bridge  to  us  be- 


96  BOSTON. 

tween  the  unparalleled  piety  of  the  Hebrew  epoch 
and  our  own.  These  ancient  men,  like  great  gar 
dens  with  great  banks  of  flowers,  send  out  their 
perfumed  breath  across  the  great  tracts  of  time. 
How  needful  is  David,  Paul,  Leighton,  Fenelon,  to 
our  devotion.  Of  these  writers,  of  this  spirit  which 
deified  them,  I  will  say  with  Confucius,  "  If  in  the 
morning  I  hear  of  the  right  way,  and  in  the  even 
ing  die,  I  can  be  happy." 

I  trace  to  this  deep  religious  sentiment  and  to  its 
culture  great  and  salutary  results  to  the  people  of 
New  England ;  first,  namely,  the  culture  of  the  in 
tellect,  which  has  always  been  found  in  the  Calvin- 
istic  church.  The  colony  was  planted  in  1620 ;  in 
1638  Harvard  College  was  founded.  The  General 
Court  of  Massachusetts,  in  1647,  "  To  the  end  that 
learning  may  not  be  buried  in  the  graves  of  the 
forefathers,  ordered,  that  every  township,  after  the 
Lord  has  increased  them  to  the  number  of  fifty 
householders,  shall  appoint  one  to  fceach  all  chil 
dren  to  write  and  read ;  and  where  any  town  shall 
increase  to  the  number  of  a  hundred  families,  they 
shall  set  up  a  Grammar  School,  the  Masters  thereof 
being  able  to  instruct  youth  so  far  as  they  may  be 
fitted  for  the  University." 

Many  and  rich  are  the  fruits  of  that  simple  stat 
ute.  The  universality  of  an  elementary  education 
in  New  England  is  her  praise  and  her  power  in  the 


BOSTON.  97 

whole  world.  To  the  schools  succeeds  the  village 
Lyceum,  —  now  very  general  throughout  all  the 
country  towns  of  New  England,  —  where  every 
week  through  the  winter,  lectures  are  read  and  de 
bates  sustained  which  prove  a  college  for  the  young 
rustic.  Hence  it  happens  that  the  young  farmers 
and  mechanics,  who  work  all  summer  in  the  field  or 
shop,  in  the  winter  often  go  into  a  neighboring 
town  to  teach  the  district  school  arithmetic  and 
grammar.  As  you  know  too,  New  England  sup 
plies  annually  a  large  detachment  of  preachers  and 
schoolmasters  and  private  tutors  to  the  interior  of 
the  South  and  West. 

New  England  lies  in  the  cold  and  hostile  latitude 
which  by  shutting  men  up  in  houses  and  tight  and 
heated  rooms  a  large  part  of  the  year,  and  then 
again  shutting  up  the  body  in  flannel  and  leather, 
defrauds  the  human  being  in  some  degree  of  his 
relations  to  external  nature ;  takes  from  the  mus 
cles  their  suppleness,  from  the  skin  its  exposure  to 
the  air ;  and  the  New  Englander,  like  every  other 
northerner,  lacks  that  beauty  and  grace  which  the 
habit  of  living  much  in  the  air,  and  the  activity  of 
the  limbs  not  in  labor  but  in  graceful  exercise,  tend 
to  produce  in  climates  nearer  to  the  sun.  Then  the 
necessity,  which  always  presses  the  northerner,  of 
providing  fuel  and  many  clothes  and  tight  houses 


98  BOSTON. 

and  much  food  against  the  long  winter,  makes  him 
anxiously  frugal,  and  generates  in  him  that  spirit 
of  detail  which  is  not  grand  and  enlarging,  but 
goes  rather  to  pinch  the  features  and  degrade  the 
character. 

As  an  antidote  to  the  spirit  of  commerce  and  of 
economy,  the  religious  spirit  —  always  enlarging, 
firing  man,  prompting  the  pursuit  of  the  vast,  the 
beautiful,  the  unattainable  —  was  especially  neces 
sary  to  the  culture  of  New  England.  In  the  midst 
of  her  laborious  and  economical  and  rude  and  awk 
ward  population,  where  is  little  elegance  and  no 
facility  ;  with  great  accuracy  in  details,  little  spirit 
of  society  or  knowledge  of  the  world,  you  shall  not 
unfrequently  meet  that  refinement  which  no  educa 
tion  and  no  habit  of  society  can  bestow;  which 
makes  the  elegance  of  wealth  look  stupid,  and 
unites  itself  by  natural  affinity  to  the  highest  minds 
of  the  world  ;  nourishes  itself  on  Plato  and  Dante, 
Michael  Angelo  and  Milton ;  on  whatever  is  pure 
and  sublime  in  art,  —  and,  I  may  say,  gave  a  hos 
pitality  in  this  country  to  the  spirit  of  Coleridge 
and  Wordsworth,  and  to  the  music  of  Beethoven, 
before  yet  their  genius  had  found  a  hearty  welcome 
in  Great  Britain. 

I  do  not  look  to  find  in  England  better  manners 
than  the  best  manners  here.  We  can  show  native 
examples,  and  I  may  almost  say  (travellers  as  we 


BOSTON.  99 

are)  natives  who  never  crossed  the  sea,  who  possess 
all  the  elements  of  noble  behavior. 

It  is  the  property  of  the  religious  sentiment  to  be 
the  most  refining  of  all  influences.  No  external 
advantages,  no  good  birth  or  breeding,  no  culture 
of  the  taste,  no  habit  of  command,  no  association 
with  the  elegant,  —  even  no  depth  of  affection  that 
does  not  rise  to  a  religious  sentiment,  can  bestow 
that  delicacy  and  grandeur  of  bearing  which  belong 
only  to  a  mind  accustomed  to  celestial  conversa 
tion.  All  else  is  coarse  and  external ;  all  else  is 
tailoring  and  cosmetics  beside  this ; l  for  thoughts 
are  expressed  in  every  look  or  gesture,  and  these 
thoughts  are  as  if  angels  had  talked  with  the  child. 

By  this  instinct  we  are  lifted  to  higher  ground. 
The  religious  sentiment  gave  the  iron  purpose  and 
arm.  That  colonizing  was  a  great  and  generous 
scheme,  manly  meant  and  manly  done.  When 
one  thinks  of  the  enterprises  that  are  attempted 
in  the  heats  of  youth,  the  Zoars,  New-Harmonies 
and  Brook -Farms,  Oakdales  and  Phalansteries, 
which  have  been  so  profoundly  ventilated,  but  end 
in  a  protracted  picnic  which  after  a  few  weeks  or 
months  dismisses  the  partakers  to  their  old  homes, 

1  "  Come  dal  fuoco  il  caldo,  esser  diviso, 

Non  puo'l  bel  dall'  eterno." 

MICHEL  ANOELO. 

[As  from  fire  heat  cannot  be  separated,  —  neither  can 
beauty  from  the  eternal.] 


100  BOSTON. 

we  see  with  new  increased  respect  the  solid,  well- 
calculated  scheme  of  these  emigrants,  sitting  down 
hard  and  fast  where  they  came,  and  building  their 
empire  by  due  degrees. 

John  Smith  says,  "  Thirty,  forty,  or  fifty  sail 
went  yearly  in  America  only  to  trade  and  fish,  but 
nothing  would  be  done  for  a  plantation,  till  about 
some  hundred  of  your  Brownists  of  England,  Am 
sterdam  and  Leyden  went  to  New  Plymouth ; 
whose  humorous  ignorances  caused  them  for  more 
than  a  year  to  endure  a  wonderful  deal  of  misery, 
with  an  infinite  patience." 

What  should  hinder  that  this  America,  so  long 
kept  in  reserve  from  the  intellectual  races  until 
they  should  grow  to  it,  glimpses  being  afforded 
which  spoke  to  the  imagination,  yet  the  firm  shore 
hid  until  science  and  art  should  be  ripe  to  propose 
it  as  a  fixed  aim,  and  a  man  should  be  found  who 
should  sail  steadily  west  sixty-eight  days  from  the 
port  of  Palos  to  find  it,  —  what  should  hinder  that 
this  New  Atlantis  should  have  its  happy  ports,  its 
mountains  of  security,  its  gardens  fit  for  human 
abode  where  all  elements  were  right  for  the  health, 
power  and  virtue  of  man  ? 

America  is  growing  like  a  cloud,  towns  on  towns, 
States  on  States ;  and  wealth  (always  interesting, 
since  from  wealth  power  cannot  be  divorced)  is 
piled  in  every  form  invented  for  comfort  or  pride. 


BOSTON.  101 

If  John  Bull  interest  you  at  home,  come  and 
see  him  under  new  conditions,  come  and  see  the 
Jonathanization  of  John. 

There  are  always  men  ready  for  adventures,  — 
more  in  an  over-governed,  over-peopled  country, 
where  all  the  professions  are  crowded  and  all 
character  suppressed,  than  elsewhere.  This  thirst 
for  adventure  is  the  vent  which  Destiny  offers ;  a 
war,  a  crusade,  a  gold  mine,  a  new  country,  speak 
to  the  imagination  and  offer  swing  and  play  to  the 
confined  powers. 

The  American  idea,  Emancipation,  appears  in 
our  freedom  of  intellection,  in  our  reforms,  and 
in  our  bad  politics  ;  it  has,  of  course,  its  sinister 
side,  which  is  most  felt  by  the  drilled  and  scholas 
tic,  but  if  followed  it  leads  to  heavenly  places. 

European  and  American  are  each  ridiculous  out 
of  his  sphere.  There  is  a  Columbia  of  thought 
and  art  and  character,  which  is  the  last  and  endless 
sequel  of  Columbus's  adventure. 

European  critics  regret  the  detachment  of  the 
Puritans  to  this  country  without  aristocracy; 
which  a  little  reminds  one  of  the  pity  of  the  Swiss 
mountaineers  when  shown  a  handsome  English 
man  :  "  What  a  pity  he  has  no  goitre  !  "  The  fu 
ture  historian  will  regard  the  detachment  of  the 
Puritans  without  aristocracy  the  supreme  fortune 


102  BOSTON. 

of  the  colony ;  as  great  a  gain  to  mankind  as  the 
opening  of  this  continent. 

There  is  a  little  formula,  couched  in  pure  Saxon, 
which  you  may  hear  in  the  corners  of  streets  and 
in  the  yard  of  the  dame's  school,  from  very  little 
republicans  :  "  I  'm  as  good  as  you  be,"  which  con 
tains  the  essence  of  the  Massachusetts  Bill  of 
Eights  and  of  the  American  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence.  And  this  was  at  the  bottom  of  Plym 
outh  Rock  and  of  Boston  Stone ;  and  this  could 
be  heard  (by  an  acute  ear)  in  the  Petitions  to  the 
King,  and  the  platforms  of  churches,  and  was  said 
and  sung  in  every  tone  of  the  psalmody  of  the 
Puritans ;  in  every  note  of  Old  Hundred  and 
Hallelujah  and  Short  Particular  Metre. 

What  is  very  conspicuous  is  the  saucy  indepen 
dence  which  shines  in  all  their  eyes.  They  could 
say  to  themselves,  Well,  at  least  this  yoke  of  man, 
of  bishops,  of  courtiers,  of  dukes,  is  off  my  neck. 
We  are  a  little  too  close  to  wolf  and  famine  than 
that  anybody  should  give  himself  airs  here  in  the 
swamp. 

London  is  a  long  way  off,  with  beadles  and  pur 
suivants  and  horse-guards.  Here  in  the  clam- 
banks  and  the  beech  and  chestnut  forest,  I  shall 
take  leave  to  breathe  and  think  freely.  If  you  do 
not  like  it,  if  you  molest  me,  I  can  cross  the  brook 
and  plant  a  new  state  out  of  reach  of  anything  but 
squirrels  and  wild  pigeons. 


BOSTON.  103 

Bonaparte  sighed  for  his  republicans  of  1789. 
The  soul  of  a  political  party  is  by  no  means  usu 
ally  the  officers  and  pets  of  the  party,  who  wear 
the  honors  and  fill  the  high  seats  and  spend  the 
salaries.  No,  but  the  theorists  and  extremists,  the 
men  who  are  never  contented  and  never  to  be  con 
tented  with  the  work  actually  accomplished,  but 
who  from  conscience  are  engaged  to  what  that 
party  professes,  —  these  men  will  work  and  watch 
and  rally  and  never  tire  in  carrying  their  point. 
The  theology  and  the  instinct  of  freedom  that  grew 
here  in  the  dark  in  serious  men  furnished  a  certain 
rancor  which  consumed  all  opposition,  fed  the 
party  and  carried  it,  over  every  rampart  and  obsta 
cle,  to  victory. 

Boston  never  wanted  a  good  principle  of  rebel 
lion  in  it,  from  the  planting  until  now ;  there  is 
always  a  minority  unconvinced,  always  a  heresi- 
arch,  whom  the  governor  and  deputies  labor  with 
but  cannot  silence.  Some  new  light,  some  new 
doctrinaire  who  makes  an  unnecessary  ado  to  es 
tablish  his  dogma ;  some  Wheelwright  or  defender 
of  Wheelwright ;  some  protester  against  the 
cruelty  of  the  magistrates  to  the  Quakers  ;  some 
tender  minister  hospitable  to  Whitefield  against 
the  counsel  of  all  the  ministers ;  some  John 
Adams  and  Josiah  Quincy  and  Governor  Andrew 
to  undertake  and  carry  the  defence  of  patriots  in 


104  BOSTON. 

the  courts  against  the  uproar  of  all  the  province  ; 
some  defender  of  the  slave  against  the  politician 
and  the  merchant ;  some  champion  of  first  prin 
ciples  of  humanity  against  the  rich  and  luxuri 
ous;  some  adversary  of  the  death  penalty;  some 
pleader  for  peace  ;  some  noble  protestant,  who  will 
not  stoop  to  infamy  when  all  are  gone  mad,  but 
will  stand  for  liberty  and  justice,  if  alone,  until  all 
come  back  to  him. 

I  confess  I  do  not  find  in  our  people,  with  all  their 
education,  a  fair  share  of  originality  of  thought ; 
—  not  any  remarkable  book  of  wisdom  ;  not  any 
broad  generalization,  any  equal  power  of  imagina 
tion.  No  Novum  Organon ;  no  Me*canique  Ce 
leste  ;  no  Principia ;  no  Paradise  Lost ;  no  Ham 
let  ;  no  Wealth  of  Nations  ;  no  National  Anthem  ; 
have  we  yet  contributed. 

Nature  is  a  frugal  mother  and  never  gives  with 
out  measure.  When  she  has  work  to  do  she  quali 
fies  men  for  that  and  sends  them  equipped  for  that. 
In  Massachusetts  she  did  not  want  epic  poems 
and  dramas  yet,  but  first,  planters  of  towns,  fellers 
of  the  forest,  builders  of  mills  and  forges,  build 
ers  of  roads,  and  farmers  to  till  and  harvest  corn 
for  the  world.  Corn,  yes,  but  honest  corn  ;  corn 
with  thanks  to  the  Giver  of  corn ;  and  the  best 
thanks,  namely,  obedience  to  his  law  ;  this  was  the 


BOSTON.  105 

office  imposed  on  our  Founders  and  people  ;  liberty, 
clean  and  wise.  It  was  to  be  built  on  Religion, 
the  Emancipator ;  Religion  which  teaches  equality 
of  all  men  in  view  of  the  spirit  which  created  man. 

The  seed  of  prosperity  was  planted.  The  peo 
ple  did  not  gather  where  they  had  not  sown.  They 
did  not  try  to  unlock  the  treasure  of  the  world 
except  by  honest  keys  of  labor  and  skill.  They 
knew,  as  God  knew,  that  command  of  nature  comes 
by  obedience  to  nature ;  that  reward  comes  by 
faithful  service;  that  the  most  noble  motto  was 
that  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  —  "I  serve,"  — and 
that  he  is  greatest  who  serves  best.  There  was  no 
secret  of  labor  which  they  disdained. 

They  accepted  the  divine  ordination  that  man  is 
for  use  ;  that  intelligent  being  exists  to  the  utmost 
use ;  and  that  his  ruin  is  to  live  for  pleasure  and 
for  show.  And  when  within  our  memory  some 
flippant  senator  wished  to  taunt  the  people  of  this 
country  by  calling  them,  "  the  mudsills  of  society," 
he  paid  them  ignorantly  a  true  praise  ;  for  good 
men  are  as  the  green  plain  of  the  earth  is,  as  the 
rocks,  and  the  beds  of  rivers  are,  the  foundation 
and  flooring  and  sills  of  the  State. 

The  power  of  labor  which  belongs  to  the  English 
race  fell  here  into  a  climate  which  befriended  it, 
and  into  a  maritime  country  made  for  trade,  where 
was  no  rival  and  no  envious  lawgiver.  The  sailor 


106  BOSTON. 

and  the  merchant  made  the  law  to  suit  themselves, 
so  that  there  was  never,  I  suppose,  a  more  rapid 
expansion  in  population,  wealth  and  all  the  ele 
ments  of  power,  and  in  the  citizens'  consciousness 
of  power  and  sustained  assertion  of  it,  than  was 
exhibited  here. 

Moral  values  become  also  money  values.  When 
men  saw  that  these  people,  besides  their  industry 
and  thrift,  had  a  heart  and  soul  and  would  stand 
by  each  other  at  all  hazards,  they  desired  to  come 
and  live  here.  A  house  in  Boston  was  worth  as 
much  again  as  a  house  just  as  good  in  a  town  of 
timorous  people,  because  here  the  neighbors  would 
defend  each  other  against  bad  governors  and  against 
troops  ;  quite  naturally  house-rents  rose  in  Boston. 

Besides,  youth  and  health  like  a  stirring  town, 
above  a  torpid  place  where  nothing  is  doing.  In 
Boston  they  were  sure  to  see  something  going  for 
ward  before  the  year  was  out.  For  here  was  the 
moving  principle  itself,  the  primum  mobile,  a  liv 
ing  mind  agitating  the  mass  and  always  afflicting 
the  conservative  class  with  some  odious  novelty  or 
other ;  a  new  religious  sect,  a  political  point,  a 
point  of  honor,  a  reform  in  education,  a  philan 
thropy. 

From  Roger  Williams  and  Eliot  and  Robinson 
and  the  Quaker  women  who  for  a  testimony  walked 
naked  into  the  streets,  and  as  the  record  tells  us 


BOSTON.  107 

"  were  arrested  and  publicly  whipped,  —  the  bag 
gages  that  they  were ; "  from  Wheelwright  the 
Antinomian  and  Ann  Hutchinson  and  Whitefield 
and  Mother  Ann  the  first  Shaker,  down  to  Abner 
Kneeland  and  Father  Lamson  and  William  Gar 
rison,  there  never  was  wanting  some  thorn  of  dis 
sent  and  innovation  and  heresy  to  prick  the  sides 
of  conservatism. 

With  all  their  love  of  his  person,  they  took  im 
mense  pleasure  in  turning  out  the  governor  and 
deputy  and  assistants,  and  contravening  the  coun 
sel  of  the  clergy ;  as  they  had  come  so  far  for  the 
sweet  satisfaction  of  resisting  the  Bishops  and  the 
King. 

The  Massachusetts  colony  grew  and  filled  its 
own  borders  with  a  denser  population  than  any 
other  American  State  (Kossuth  called  it  the  City 
State),  all  the  while  sending  out  colonies  to  every 
part  of  New  England ;  then  South  and  West,  until 
it  has  infused  all  the  Union  with  its  blood. 

We  are  willing  to  see  our  sons  emigrate,  as  to 
see  our  hives  swarm.  That  is  what  they  were  made 
to  do,  and  what  the  land  wants  and  invites.  The 
towns  or  countries  in  which  the  man  lives  and 
dies  where  he  was  born,  and  his  son  and  son's 
son  live  and  die  where  he  did,  are  of  no  great 
account. 


108  BOSTON. 

I  know  that  this  history  contains  many  black 
lines  of  cruel  injustice ;  murder,  persecution,  and 
execution  of  women  for  witchcraft. 

I  am  afraid  there  are  anecdotes  of  poverty  and 
disease  in  Broad  Street  that  match  the  dismal 
statistics  of  New  York  and  London.  No  doubt  all 
manner  of  vices  can  be  found  in  this,  as  in  every 
city ;  infinite  meanness,  scarlet  crime.  Granted. 
But  there  is  yet  in  every  city  a  certain  permanent 
tone  ;  a  tendency  to  be  in  the  right  or  in  the  wrong ; 
audacity 'or  slowness  ;  labor  or  luxury ;  giving  or 
parsimony ;  which  side  is  it  on  ?  And  I  hold  that 
a  community,  as  a  man,  is  entitled  to  be  judged  by 
his  best. 

We  are  often  praised  for  what  is  least  ours. 
Boston  too  is  sometimes  pushed  into  a  theatrical 
attitude  of  virtue,  to  which  she  is  not  entitled  and 
which  she  cannot  keep.  But  the  genius  of  Boston 
is  seen  in  her  real  independence,  productive  power 
and  northern  acuteness  of  mind,  —  which  is  in 
nature  hostile  to  oppression.  It  is  a  good  city  as 
cities  go  ;  Nature  is  good.  The  climate  is  electric, 
good  for  wit  and  good  for  character.  What  pub 
lic  souls  have  lived  here,  what  social  benefactors, 
what  eloquent  preachers,  skilful  workmen,  stout 
captains,  wise  merchants ;  what  fine  artists,  what 
gifted  conversers,  what  mathematicians,  what  law- 


BOSTON.  109 

yers,  what  wits ;  and  where  is  the  middle  class  so 
able,  virtuous  and  instructed  ? 

And  thus  our  little  city  thrives  and  enlarges, 
striking  deep  roots,  and  sending  out  boughs  and 
buds,  and  propagating  itself  like  a  banyan  over 
the  continent.  Greater  cities  there  are  that  sprung 
from  it,  full  of  its  blood  and  names  and  traditions. 
It  is  very  willing  to  be  outnumbered  and  out 
grown,  so  long  as  they  carry  forward  its  life  of 
civil  and  religious  freedom,  of  education,  of  so 
cial  order,  and  of  loyalty  to  law.  It  is  very  willing 
to  be  outrun  in  numbers,  and  in  wealth  ;  but  it  is 
very  jealous  of  any  superiority  in  these,  its  natural 
instinct  and  privilege.  You  cannot  conquer  it 
by  numbers,  or  by  square  miles,  or  by  counted 
millions  of  wealth.  For  it  owes  its  existence 
and  its  power  to  principles  not  of  yesterday, 
and  the  deeper  principle  will  always  prevail  over 
whatever  material  accumulations. 

As  long  as  she  cleaves  to  her  liberty,  her  educa 
tion  and  to  her  spiritual  faith  as  the  foundation  of 
these,  she  will  teach  the  teachers  and  rule  the  ru 
lers  of  America.  Her  mechanics,  her  farmers  will 
toil  better ;  she  will  repair  mischief ;  she  will  fur 
nish  what  is  wanted  in  the  hour  of  need  ;  her  sail 
ors  will  man  the  Constitution ;  her  mechanics  re 
pair  the  broken  rail ;  her  troops  will  be  the  first 
in  the  field  to  vindicate  the  majesty  of  a  free 


110  BOSTON. 

nation,  and  remain  last  on  the  field  to  secure  it. 
Her  genius  will  write  the  laws  and  her  historians 
record  the  fate  of  nations. 

In  an  age  of  trade  and  material  prosperity,  we 
have  stood  a  little  stupefied  by  the  elevation  of  our 
ancestors.  We  praised  the  Puritans  because  we 
did  not  find  in  ourselves  the  spirit  to  do  the  like. 
We  praised  with  a  certain  adulation  the  invariable 
valor  of  the  old  war-gods  and  war-councillors  of  the 
Kevolution.  Washington  has  seemed  an  excep 
tional  virtue.  This  praise  was  a  concession  of  un- 
worthiness  in  those  who  had  so  much  to  say  of  it. 
The  heroes  only  shared  this  power  of  a  sentiment, 
which,  if  it  now  breathes  into  us,  will  make  it  easy 
to  us  to  understand  them,  and  we  shall  not  longer 
flatter  them.  Let  us  shame  the  fathers,  by  supe 
rior  virtue  in  the  sons. 

It  is  almost  a  proverb  that  a  great  man  has  not 
a  great  son.  Bacon,  Newton  and  Washington 
were  childless.  But,  in  Boston,  Nature  is  more 
indulgent,  and  has  given  good  sons  to  good  sires, 
or  at  least  continued  merit  in  the  same  blood.  The 
elder  President  Adams  has  to  divide  voices  of  fame 
with  the  younger  President  Adams.  The  elder 
Otis  could  hardly  excel  the  popular  eloquence  of 
the  younger  Otis  ;  and  the  Quincy  of  the  Revolu 
tion  seems  compensated  for  the  shortness  of  his 


BOSTON.  Ill 

bright    career   in    the   son   who   so    long   lingers 
among  the  last  of  those  bright  clouds, 

"  That  on  the  steady  breeze  of  honor  sail 
In  long  succession  calm  and  beautiful." 

Here  stands  to-day  as  of  yore  our  little  city  of 
the  rocks ;  here  let  it  stand  forever,  on  the  man- 
bearing  granite  of  the  North !  Let  her  stand  fast 
by  herself !  She  has  grown  great.  She  is  filled 
with  strangers,  but  she  can  only  prosper  by  adher 
ing  to  her  faith.  Let  every  child  that  is  born  of 
her  and  every  child  of  her  adoption  see  to  it  to 
keep  the  name  of  Boston  as  clean  as  the  sun ;  and 
in  distant  ages  her  motto  shall  be  the  prayer  of 
millions  on  all  the  hills  that  gird  the  town,  "  As 
with  our  Fathers,  so  God  be  with  us !  "  SICUT 

PATRIBUS,  SIT  DEUS  NOBIS ! 


MICHAEL  ANGELO. 


NEVER  did  sculptor's  dream  unfold 

A  form  which  marble  doth  not  hold 

In  its  white  block ;  yet  it  therein  shall  find 

Only  the  hand  secure  and  bold 

Which  still  obeys  the  mind. 

MICHAEL  ANGELO'S  Sonnets. 


NON  ha  1'  ottimo  artista  alcun  concetto, 
Ch'un  marmo  solo  in  se  non  circoscriva 
Col  suo  soverchio,  e  solo  a  quello  arriva 
La  man  che  obbedisce  all'  intelletto. 

M.  ANGELO,  Sonnetto  primo. 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.1 


FEW  lives  of  eminent  men  are  harmonious ;  few 
that  furnish,  in  all  the  facts,  an  image  correspond 
ing  with  their  fame.  But  all  things  recorded  of 
Michael  Angelo  Buonarotti  agree  together.  He 
lived  one  life  ;  he  pursued  one  career.  He  accom 
plished  extraordinary  works  ;  he  uttered  extraordi 
nary  words ;  and  in  this  greatness  was  so  little  ec 
centricity,  so  true  was  he  to  the  laws  of  the  human 
mind,  that  his  character  and  his  works,  like  Sir 
Isaac  Newton's,  seem  rather  a  part  of  nature  than 
arbitrary  productions  of  the  human  will.  Especi 
ally  we  venerate  his  moral  fame.  Whilst  his  name 
belongs  to  the  highest  class  of  genius,  his  life  con 
tains  in  it  no  injurious  influence.  Every  line  in  his 
biography  might  be  read  to  the  human  race  with 
wholesome  effect.  The  means,  the  materials  of  his 
activity,  were  coarse  enough  to  be  appreciated, 
being  addressed  for  the  most  part  to  the  eye  ;  the 
results,  sublime  and  all  innocent.  A  purity  severe 
and  even  terrible  goes  out  from  the  lofty  productions 

1  Reprinted  from  the  North  American  Review,  Jwne,  1837. 

/*. 


116  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

of  his  pencil  and  his  chisel,  and  again  from  the  more 
perfect  sculpture  of  his  own  life,  which  heals  and 
exalts.  "  He  nothing  common  did,  or  mean,"  and 
dying  at  the  end  of  near  ninety  years,  had  not  yet 
become  old,  but  was  engaged  in  executing  his  grand 
conceptions  in  the  ineffaceable  architecture  of  St. 
Peter's. 

Above  all  men  whose  history  we  know,  Michael 
Angelo  presents  us  with  the  perfect  image  of  the 
artist.  He  is  an  eminent  master  in  the  four  fine 
arts,  Painting,  Sculpture,  Architecture  and  Poetry. 
In  three  of  them  by  visible  means,  and  in  poetry  by 
words,  he  strove  to  express  the  Idea  of  Beauty. 
This  idea  possessed  him  and  determined  all  his  ac 
tivity.  Beauty  in  the  largest  sense,  beauty  inward 
and  outward,  comprehending  grandeur  as  a  part, 
and  reaching  to  goodness  as  its  soul,  —  this  to  re 
ceive  and  this  to  impart,  was  his  genius. 

It  is  a  happiness  to  find,  amid  the  falsehood  and 
griefs  of  the  human  race,  a  soul  at  intervals  born  to 
behold  and  create  only  beauty.  So  shall  not  the 
indescribable  charm  of  the  natural  world,  the  great 
spectacle  of  morn  and  evening  which  shut  and  open 
the  most  disastrous  day,  want  observers.  The  an 
cient  Greeks  called  the  world  xo/0'ftos>  Beauty ;  a 
name  which,  in  our  artificial  state  of  society,  sounds 
fanciful  and  impertinent.  Yet,  in  proportion  as  man 
rises  above  the  servitude  to  wealth  and  a  pursuit  of 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  117 

mean  pleasures,  he  perceives  that  what  is  most  real 
is  most  beautiful,  and  that,  by  the  contemplation  of 
such  objects,  he  is  taught  and  exalted.  This  truth, 
that  perfect  beauty  and  perfect  goodness  are  one, 
was  made  known  to  Michael  Angelo  ;  and  we  shall 
endeavor  by  sketches  from  his  life  to  show  the  di 
rection  and  limitations  of  his  search  after  this  ele 
ment. 

In  considering  a  life  dedicated  to  the  study  of 
Beauty,  it  is  natural  to  inquire,  what  is  Beauty  ? 
Can  this  charming  element  be  so  abstracted  by  the 
human  mind,  as  to  become  a  distinct  and  permanent 
object?  Beauty  cannot  be  defined.  Like  Truth, 
it  is  an  ultimate  aim  of  the  human  being.  It  does 
not  lie  within  the  limits  of  the  understanding. 
"  The  nature  of  the  beautiful,"  —  we  gladly  borrow 
the  language  of  Moritz,  a  German  critic,  —  "  con 
sists  herein,  that  because  the  understanding  in  the 
presence  of  the  beautiful  cannot  ask,  '  Why  is  it 
beautiful?  '  for  that  reason  is  it  so.  There  is  no 
standard  whereby  the  understanding  can  determine 
whether  objects  are  beautiful  or  otherwise.  What 
other  standard  of  the  beautiful  exists,  than  the  en 
tire  circuit  of  all  harmonious  proportions  of  the 
great  system  of  nature  ?  All  particular  beauties 
scattered  up  and  down  in  nature  are  only  so  far 
beautiful,  as  they  suggest  more  or  less  in  themselves 
this  entire  circuit  of  harmonious  proportions." 


118  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

This  great  Whole,  the  understanding  cannot  em 
brace.  Beauty  may  be  felt.  It  may  be  produced. 
But  it  cannot  be  defined. 

The  Italian  artists  sanction  this  view  of  beauty 
by  describing  it  as  il  piu  neW  uno,  "the  many  in 
one,"  or  multitude  in  unity,  intimating  that  what  is 
truly  beautiful  seems  related  to  all  nature.  A  beau 
tiful  person  has  a  kind  of  universality,  and  appears 
to  have  truer  conformity  to  all  pleasing  objects  in 
external  nature  than  another.  Every  great  work 
of  art  seems  to  take  up  into  itself  the  excellencies 
of  all  works,  and  to  present,  as  it  were,  a  miniature 
of  nature. 

In  relation  to  this  element  of  Beauty,  the  minds 
of  men  divide  themselves  into  two  classes.  In  the 
first  place,  all  men  have  an  organization  correspond 
ing  more  or  less  to  the  entire  system  of  nature,  and 
therefore  a  power  of  deriving  pleasure  from  Beauty. 
This  is  Taste.  In  the  second  place,  certain  minds, 
more  closely  harmonized  with  nature,  possess  the 
power  of  abstracting  Beauty  from  things,  and  re 
producing  it  in  new  forms,  on  any  object  to  which 
accident  may  determine  their  activity;  as  stone, 
canvas,  song,  history.  This  is  Art. 

Since  Beauty  is  thus  an  abstraction  of  the  har 
mony  and  proportion  that  reigns  in  all  nature,  it  is 
therefore  studied  in  nature,  and  not  in  what  does 
not  exist.  Hence  the  celebrated  French  maxim  of 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  119 

Ehetoric,  Rien  de  beau  que  le  vrai ;  "  Nothing  is 
beautiful  but  what  is  true."  It  has  a  much  wider 
application  than  to  Ehetoric ;  as  wide,  namely,  as 
the  terms  of  the  proposition  admit.  In  art,  Michael 
Angelo  is  himself  but  a  document  or  verification 
of  this  maxim.  He  labored  to  express  the  beauti 
ful,  in  the  entire  conviction  that  it  was  only  to  be 
attained  unto  by  knowledge  of  the  true.  The  com 
mon  eye  is  satisfied  with  the  surface  on  which  it 
rests.  The  wise  eye  knows  that  it  is  surface,  and, 
if  beautiful,  only  the  result  of  interior  harmonies, 
which,  to  him  who  knows  them,  compose  the  image 
of  higher  beauty.  Moreover,  he  knew  well  that  only 
by  an  understanding  of  the  internal  mechanism  can 
the  outside  be  faithfully  delineated.  The  walls  of 
houses  are  transparent  to  the  architect.  The  symp 
toms  disclose  the  constitution  to  the  physician ;  and 
to  the  artist  it  belongs  by  a  better  knowledge  of 
anatomy,  and,  within  anatomy,  of  life  and  thought, 
to  acquire  the  power  of  true  drawing.  "  The  hu 
man  form,"  says  Goethe,  "  cannot  be  comprehended 
through  seeing  its  surface.  It  must  be  stripped  of 
the  muscles,  its  parts  separated,  its  joints  observed, 
its  divisions  marked,  its  action  and  counter  action 
learned ;  the  hidden,  the  reposing,  the  foundation  of 
the  apparent,  must  be  searched,  if  one  would  really 
see  and  imitate  what  moves  as  a  beautiful  insepara 
ble  whole  in  living  waves  before  the  eye."  Michael 


120  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

Angelo  dedicated  himself,  from  his  childhood  to  his 
death,  to  a  toilsome  observation  of  nature.  The 
first  anecdote  recorded  of  him  shows  him  to  be  al 
ready  on  the  right  road.  Granacci,  a  painter's  ap 
prentice,  having  lent  him,  when  a  boy,  a  print  of  St. 
Antony  beaten  by  devils,  together  with  some  colors 
and  pencils,  he  went  to  the  fish-market  to  observe  the 
form  and  color  of  fins  and  of  the  eyes  of  fish.  Car 
dinal  Farnese  one  day  found  him,  when  an  old  man, 
walking  alone  in  the  Coliseum,  and  expressed  his 
surprise  at  finding  him  solitary  amidst  the  ruins  ; 
to  which  he  replied,  "  I  go  yet  to  school  that  I  may 
continue  to  learn."  And  one  of  the  last  drawings 
in  his  portfolio  is  a  sublime  hint  of  his  own  feel 
ing  ;  for  it  is  a  sketch  of  an  old  man  with  a  long 
beard,  in  a  go-cart,  with  an  hour-glass  before  him ; 
and  the  motto,  Ancora  imparo,  "  I  still  learn." 

In  this  spirit  he  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of 
anatomy  for  twelve  years  ;  we  ought  to  say  rather, 
as  long  as  he  lived.  The  depth  of  his  knowledge  in 
anatomy  has  no  parallel  among  the  artists  of  mod 
ern  times.  Most  of  his  designs,  his  contemporaries 
inform  us,  were  made  with  a  pen,  and  in  the  style 
of  an  engraving  on  copper  or  wood  ;  a  manner  more 
expressive  but  not  admitting  of  correction.  When 
Michael  Angelo  would  begin  a  statue,  he  made  first 
on  paper  the  skeleton;  afterwards,  upon  another 
paper,  the  same  figure  clothed  with  muscles.  The 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  121 

studies  of  the  statue  of  Christ  in  the  Church  of 
Minerva  at  Rome,  made  in  this  manner,  were  long 
preserved. 

Those  who  have  never  given  attention  to  the  arts 
of  design,  are  surprised  that  the  artist  should  find 
so  much  to  study  in  a  fabric  of  such  limited  parts 
and  dimensions  as  the  human  body.  But  reflection 
discloses  evermore  a  closer  analogy  between  the 
finite  form  and  the  infinite  inhabitant.  Man  is  the 
highest,  and  indeed  the  only  proper  object  of  plastic 
art.  There  needs  no  better  proof  of  our  instinctive 
feeling  of  the  immense  expression  of  which  the  hu 
man  figure  is  capable,  than  the  uniform  tendency 
which  the  religion  of  every  country  has  betrayed 
towards  Anthropomorphism,  or  attributing  to  the 
Deity  the  human  form.  And  behold  the  effect  of 
this  familiar  object  every  day !  No  acquaintance 
with  the  secrets  of  its  mechanism,  no  degrading 
views  of  human  nature,  not  the  most  swinish  com 
post  of  mud  and  blood  that  was  ever  misnamed  phi 
losophy,  can  avail  to  hinder  us  from  doing  involun 
tary  reverence  to  any  exhibition  of  majesty  or  sur 
passing  beauty  in  human  clay. 

Our  knowledge  of  its  highest  expression  we  owe 
to  the  Fine  Arts.  Not  easily  in  this  age  will  any 
man  acquire  by  himself  such  perceptions  of  the 
dignity  or  grace  of  the  human  frame,  as  the  student 
of  art  owes  to  the  remains  of  Phidias,  to  the  Apollo, 


122  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

the  Jove,  the  paintings  and  statues  of  Michael  An- 
gelo,  and  the  works  of  Canova.  There  are  now  in 
Italy,  both  on  canvas  and  in  marble,  forms  and 
faces  which  the  imagination  is  enriched  by  contem 
plating.  Goethe  says  that  he  is  but  half  himself 
who  has  never  seen  the  Juno  in  the  Rondanini  pal 
ace  at  Rome.  Seeing  these  works  true  to  human 
nature  and  yet  superhuman,  "  we  feel  that  we  are 
greater  than  we  know."  Seeing  these  works,  we 
appreciate  the  taste  which  led  Michael  Angelo, 
against  the  taste  and  against  the  admonition  of  his 
patrons,  to  cover  the  walls  of  churches  with  un 
clothed  figures,  "  improper  "  says  his  biographer, 
"  for  the  place,  but  proper  for  the  exhibition  of  all 
the  pomp  of  his  profound  knowledge." 

The  love  of  beauty  which  never  passes  beyond 
outline  and  color,  was  too  slight  an  object  to  occupy 
the  powers  of  his  genius.  There  is  a  closer  relation 
than  is  commonly  thought  between  the  fine  arts  and 
the  iisef  ul  arts ;  and  it  is  an  essential  fact  in  the  his 
tory  of  Michael  Angelo,  that  his  love  of  beauty  is 
made  solid  and  perfect  by  his  deep  understanding 
of  the  mechanic  arts.  Architecture  is  the  bond 
that  unites  the  elegant  and  the  economical  arts, 
and  his  skill  in  this  is  a  pledge  of  his  capacity  in 
both  kinds.  His  Titanic  handwriting  in  marble 
and  travertine  is  to  be  found  in  every  part  of  Rome 
and  Florence;  and  even  at  Venice,  on  defective 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  123 

evidence,  he  is  said  to  have  given  the  plan  of  the 
bridge  of  the  Rialto.  Nor  was  his  a  skill  in  orna 
ment,  or  confined  to  the  outline  and  designs  of  tow 
ers  and  facades,  but  a  thorough  acquaintance  with 
all  the  secrets  of  the  art,  with  all  the  details  of 
economy  and  strength. 

When  the  Florentines  united  themselves  with 
Venice,  England  and  France,  to  oppose  the  power 
of  the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  Michael  Angelo  was 
appointed  Military  Architect  and  Engineer,  to  su 
perintend  the  erection  of  the  necessary  works.  He 
visited  Bologna  to  inspect  its  celebrated  fortifica 
tions,  and,  on  his  return,  constructed  a  fortification 
on  the  heights  of  San  Miniato,  which  commands  the 
city  and  environs  of  Florence.  On  the  24th  of 
October,  1529,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  general  of 
Charles  V.,  encamped  on  the  hills  surrounding  the 
city,  and  his  first  operation  was  to  throw  up  a  ram 
part  to  storm  the  bastion  of  San  Miniato.  His 
design  was  frustrated  by  the  providence  of  Michael 
Angelo.  Michael  made  such  good  resistance,  that 
the  Prince  directed  the  artillery  to  demolish  the 
tower.  The  artist  hung  mattresses  of  wool  on  the 
side  exposed  to  the  attack,  and  by  means  of  a  bold 
projecting  cornice,  from  which  they  were  suspended, 
a  considerable  space  was  left  between  them  and  the 
wall.  This  simple  expedient  was  sufficient,  and  the 
Prince  was  obliged  to  turn  his  siege  into  a  blockade. 


124  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

After  an  active  and  successful  service  to  the  city 
for  six  months,  Michael  Angelo  was  informed  of 
a  treachery  that  was  ripening  within  the  walls. 
He  communicated  it  to  the  government  with  his  ad 
vice  upon  it ;  but  was  mortified  by  receiving  from 
the  government  reproaches  at  his  credulity  and 
fear.  He  replied,  "  that  it  was  useless  for  him  to 
take  care  of  the  walls,  if  they  were  determined  not 
to  take  care  of  themselves,  "  and  he  withdrew  pri 
vately  from  the  city  to  Ferrara,  and  thence  to  Ven 
ice.  The  news  of  his  departure  occasioned  a  gen 
eral  concern  in  Florence,  and  he  was  instantly  fol 
lowed  with  apologies  and  importunities  to  return. 
He  did  so,  and  resumed  his  office.  On  the  21st  of 
March,  1530,  the  Prince  of  Orange  assaulted  the 
city  by  storm.  Michael  Angelo  is  represented  as 
having  ordered  his  defence  so  vigorously,  that  the 
Prince  was  compelled  to  retire.  By  the  treachery 
however  of  the  general  of  the  Kepublic,  Malatesta 
Baglioni,  all  his  skill  was  rendered  unavailing,  and 
the  city  capitulated  on  the  9th  of  August.  The 
excellence  of  the  works  constructed  by  our  artist 
has  been  approved  by  Vauban,  who  visited  them 
and  took  a  plan  of  them. 

In  Rome,  Michael  Angelo  was  consulted  by  Pope 
Paul  III.  in  building  the  fortifications  of  San 
Borgo.  He  built  the  stairs  of  Ara  Celi  leading  to 
the  Church  once  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus  ; 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  125 

he  arranged  the  piazza  of  the  Capitol,  and  built  its 
porticoes.  He  was  charged  with  rebuilding  the 
Poiis  Palatinus  over  the  Tiber.  He  prepared,  ac 
cordingly,  a  large  quantity  of  blocks  of  travertine, 
and  was  proceeding  with  the  work,  when,  through 
the  intervention  of  his  rivals,  this  work  was  taken 
from  him  and  intrusted  to  Nanni  di  Bacio  Bigio, 
who  plays  but  a  pitiful  part  in  Michael's  history. 
Nanni  sold  the  travertine,  and  filled  up  the  piers 
with  gravel  at  a  small  expense.  Michael  Angelo 
made  known  his  opinion,  that  the  bridge  could  not 
resist  the  force  of  the  current ;  and,  one  day  riding 
over  it  on  horseback,  with  his  friend  Vasari,  he 
cried,  "  George,  this  bridge  trembles  under  us  ;  let 
us  ride  faster  lest  it  fall  whilst  we  are  upon  it." 
It  fell,  five  years  after  it  was  built,  in  1557,  and 
is  still  called  the  "  Broken  Bridge." 

Versatility  of  talent  in  men  of  undoubted  ability 
always  awakens  the  liveliest  interest ;  and  we  ob 
serve  with  delight,  that,  besides  the  sublimity  and 
even  extravagance  of  Michael  Angelo,  he  possessed 
an  unexpected  dexterity  in  minute  mechanical  con 
trivances.  When  the  Sistine  Chapel  was  prepared 
for  him  that  he  might  paint  the  ceiling,  he  found 
the  platform  on  which  he  was  to  work,  suspended 
by  ropes  which  passed  through  the  ceiling.  Mich 
ael  demanded  of  San  Gallo,  the  Pope's  architect, 
how  these  holes  were  to  be  repaired  in  the  picture  ? 


126  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

San  Gallo"  replied ;  "  That  was  for  him  to  con 
sider,  for  the  platform  could  be  constructed  in  no 
other  way."  Michael  removed  the  whole,  and  con 
structed  a  movable  platform  to  rest  and  roll  upon 
the  floor,  which  is  believed  to  be  the  same  simple 
contrivance  which  is  used  in  Rome,  at  this  day,  to 
repair  the  walls  of  churches.  He  gave  this  model 
to  a  carpenter,  who  made  it  so  profitable  as  to  fur 
nish  a  dowry  for  his  two  daughters.  He  was  so 
nice  in  tools,  that  he  made  with  his  own  hand  the 
wimbles,  the  files,  the  rasps,  the  chisels  and  all 
other  irons  and  instruments  which  he  needed  in 
sculpture  ;  and,  in  painting,  he  not  only  mixed  but 
ground  his  colors  himself,  trusting  no  one. 

And  not  only  was  this  discoverer  of  Beauty,  and 
its  teacher  among  men,  rooted  and  grounded  in 
those  severe  laws  of  practical  skill,  which  genius 
can  never  teach,  and  which  must  be  learned  by 
practice  alone,  but  he  was  one  of  the  most  indus 
trious  men  that  ever  lived.  His  diligence  was  so 
great  that  it  is  wonderful  how  he  endured  its  fa 
tigues.  The  midnight  battles,  the  forced  marches, 
the  winter  campaigns  of  Julius  Ca3sar  or  Charles 
XII.  do  not  indicate  greater  strength  of  body  or  of 
mind.  He  finished  the  gigantic  painting  of  the 
ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  in  twenty  months,  a 
fact  which  enlarges,  it  has  been  said,  the  known 
powers  of  man.  Indeed  he  toiled  so  assiduously 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  127 

at  this  painful  work,  that,  for  a  long  time  after,  he 
was  unable  to  see  any  picture  but  by  holding  it 
over  his  head.  A  little  bread  and  wine  was  all  his 
nourishment ;  and  he  told  Vasari  that  he  often 
slept  in  his  clothes,  both  because  he  was  too  weary 
to  undress,  and  because  he  would  rise  in  the  night 
and  go  immediately  to  work.  "  I  have  found," 
says  his  friend,  "  some  of  his  designs  in  Florence, 
where,  whilst  may  be  seen  the  greatness  of  his  gen 
ius,  it  may  also  be  known  that  when  he  wished  to 
take  Minerva  from  the  head  of  Jove,  there  needed 
the  hammer  of  Vulcan."  He  used  to  make  to  a 
single  figure  nine,  ten,  or  twelve  heads  before  he 
could  satisfy  himself,  seeking  that  there  should  be 
in  the  composition  a  certain  universal  grace  such  as 
nature  makes,  saying,  that  "  he  needed  to  have  his 
compasses  in  his  eye,  and  not  in  his  hand,  because 
the  hands  work  whilst  the  eye  judges."  He  was 
accustomed  to  say,  "  Those  figures  alone  are  good, 
from  which  the  labor  is  scraped  off,  when  the  scaf 
folding  is  taken  away." 

At  near  eighty  years,  he  began  in  marble  a  group 
of  four  figures  for  a  dead  Christ ;  because,  he  said, 
to  exercise  himself  with  the  mallet  was  good  for  his 
health. 

And  what  did  he  accomplish  ?  It  does  not  fall 
within  our  design  to  give  an  account  of  his  works, 
yet  for  the  sake  of  the  completeness  of  our  sketch 


128  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

we  will  name  the  principal  ones.  Sculpture,  he 
called  Ms  art,  and  to  it  he  regretted  afterwards  he 
had  not  singly  given  himself.  The  style  of  his  paint 
ings  is  monumental ;  and  even  his  poetry  partakes 
of  that  character.  In  sculpture,  his  greatest  work 
is  the  statue  of  Moses  in  the  Church  of  Pietro  in 
Vincolo,  in  Rome.  It  is  a  sitting  statue  of  colossal 
size,  and  is  designed  to  embody  the  Hebrew  Law. 
The  lawgiver  is  supposed  to  gaze  upon  the  wor 
shippers  of  the  golden  calf.  The  majestic  wrath 
of  the  figure  daunts  the  beholder.  In  the  Piazza 
del  Gran  Duca  at  Florence,  stands,  in  the  open  air, 
his  David,  about  to  hurl  the  stone  at  Goliah.  In 
the  Church  called  the  Minerva,  at  Rome,  is  his 
Christ ;  an  object  of  so  much  devotion  to  the  peo 
ple,  that  the  right  foot  has  been  shod  with  a  brazen 
sandal  to  prevent  it  from  being  kissed  away.  In  St. 
Peter's,  is  his  Pieta,  or  dead  Christ  in  the  arms  of 
his  mother.  In  the  Mausoleum  of  the  Medici  at 
Florence,  are  the  tombs  of  Lorenzo  and  Cosmo, 
with  the  grand  statues  of  Night  and  Day,  and  Au 
rora  and  Twilight.  Several  statues  of  less  fame, 
and  bas-reliefs,  are  in  Rome  and  Florence  and 
Paris. 

His  Paintings  are  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  of 
which  he  first  covered  the  ceiling  with  the  story  of 
the  creation,  in  successive  compartments,  with  the 
great  series  of  the  Prophets  and  Sibyls  in  alternate 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  129 

tablets,  and  a  series  of  greater  and  smaller  fancy- 
pieces  in  the  lunettes.  This  is  his  capital  work 
painted  in  fresco.  Every  one  of  these  pieces,  every 
figure,  every  hand  and  foot  and  finger,  is  a  study 
of  anatomy  and  design.  Slighting  the  secondary 
arts  of  coloring,  and  all  the  aids  of  graceful  finish, 
he  aimed  exclusively,  as  a  stern  designer,  to  ex 
press  the  vigor  and  magnificence  of  his  conceptions. 
Upon  the  wall,  over  the  altar,  is  painted  the  Last 
Judgment. 

Of  his  designs,  the  most  celebrated  is  the  car 
toon  representing  soldiers  coming  out  in  the  bath 
and  arming  themselves  ;  an  incident  of  the  war  of 
Pisa.  The  wonderful  merit  of  this  drawing,  which 
contrasts  the  extremes  of  relaxation  and  vigor,  is 
conspicuous  even  in  the  coarsest  prints. 

Of  his  genius  for  Architecture,  it  is  sufficient  to 
say  that  he  built  St.  Peter's,  an  ornament  of  the 
earth.  He  said  he  would  hang  the  Pantheon  in 
the  air ;  and  he  redeemed  his  pledge  by  suspend 
ing  that  vast  cupola,  without  offence  to  grace  or  to 
stability,  over  the  astonished  beholder.  He  did 
not  live  to  complete  the  work;  but  is  there  not 
something  affecting  in  the  spectacle  of  an  old  man, 
on  the  verge  of  ninety  years,  carrying  steadily  on 
ward  with  the  heat  and  determination  of  manhood, 
his  poetic  conceptions  into  progressive  execution, 
surmounting  by  the  dignity  of  his  purposes  all  ob- 


130  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

stacles  and  all  enmities,  and  only  hindered  by  the 
limits  of  life  from  fulfilling  his  designs?  Very 
slowly  came  he,  after  months  and  years,  to  the 
dome.  At  last  he  began  to  model  it  very  small  in 
wax.  When  it  was  finished,  he  had  it  copied  larger 
in  wood,  and  by  this  model  it  was  built.  Long- 
after  it  was  completed,  and  often  since,  to  this  day, 
rumors  are  occasionally  spread  that  it  is  giving 
way,  and  it  is  said  to  have  been  injured  by  unskilful 
attempts  to  repair  it.  Benedict  XIV.,  during  one 
of  these  panics,  sent  for  the  architect  Marchese 
Polini,  to  come  to  Rome  and  examine  it.  Polini 
put  an  end  to  all  the  various  projects  of  repairs, 
by  the  satisfying  sentence  ;  "  The  cupola  does  not 
start,  and  if  it  should  start,  nothing  can  be  done 
but  to  pull  it  down." 

The  impulse  of  his  grand  style  was  instantaneous 
upon  his  contemporaries.  Every  stroke  of  his  pen 
cil  moved  the  pencil  in  Raphael's  hand.  Raphael 
said,  "  I  bless  God  I  live  in  the  times  of  Michael 
Angelo."  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  two  centuries  later, 
declared  to  the  British  Institution,  "  I  feel  a  self- 
congratulation  in  knowing  myself  capable  of  such 
sensations  as  he  intended  to  excite." 

A  man  of  such  habits  and  such  deeds,  made  good 
his  pretensions  to  a  perception  and  to  delineation 
of  external  beauty.  But  inimitable  as  his  works 
are,  his  whole  life  confessed  that  his  hand  was  all 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  131 

inadequate  to  express  his  thought.  "  He  alone  " 
he  said,  "is  an  artist  whose  hands  can  perfectly 
execute  what  his  mind  has  conceived ; "  and  such 
was  his  own  mastery,  that  men  said,  "  the  marble 
was  flexible  in  his  hands."  Yet,  contemplating 
ever  with  love  the  idea  of  absolute  beauty,  he  was 
still  dissatisfied  with  his  own  work.  The  things 
proposed  to  him  in  his  imagination  were  such,  that, 
for  not  being  able  with  his  hands  to  express  so 
grand  and  terrible  conceptions,  he  often  abandoned 
his  work.  For  this  reason  he  often  only  blocked  his 
statue.  A  little  before  he  died,  he  burned  a  great 
number  of  designs,  sketches,  and  cartoons  made  by 
him,  being  impatient  of  their  defects.  Grace  in 
living  forms,  except  in  very  rare  instances,  did  not 
satisfy  him.  He  never  made  but  one  portrait  (a 
cartoon  of  Messer  Tommaso  di  Cavalieri),  because 
he  abhorred  to  draw  a  likeness  unless  it  were  of 
infinite  beauty. 

Such  was  his  devotion  to  art.  But  let  no  man 
suppose  that  the  images  which  his  spirit  worshipped 
were  mere  transcripts  of  external  grace,  or  that 
this  profound  soul  was  taken  or  holden  in  the 
chains  of  superficial  beauty.  To  him,  of  all  men, 
it  was  transparent.  Through  it  he  beheld  the  eter 
nal  spiritual  beauty  which  ever  clothes  itself  with 
grand  and  graceful  outlines,  as  its  appropriate 
form.  He  called  eternal  grace  "the  frail  and 


132  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

weary  weed,  in  which  God  dresses  the  soul  which 
he  has  called  into  Time."  "  As  from  the  fire,  heat 
cannot  be  divided,  no  more  can  beauty  from  the 
eternal."  He  was  conscious  in  his  efforts  of  higher 
aims  than  to  address  the  eye.  He  sought,  through 
the  eye,  to  reach  the  soul.  Therefore,  as,  in  the 
first  place,  he  sought  to  approach  the  Beautiful  by 
the  study  of  the  True,  so  he  failed  not  to  make  the 
next  step  of  progress,  and  to  seek  Beauty  in  its 
highest  form,  that  of  Goodness.  The  sublimity  of 
his  art  is  in  his  life.  He  did  not  only  build  a  di 
vine  temple,  and  paint  and  carve  saints  and  proph 
ets.  He  lived  out  the  same  inspiration.  There  is 
no  spot  upon  his  fame.  The  fire  and  sanctity  of 
his  pencil  breathe  in  his  words.  When  he  was  in 
formed  that  Paul  IV.  desired  he  should  paint  again 
the  side  of  the  chapel  where  the  Last  Judgment  was 
painted,  because  of  the  indecorous  nudity  of  the  fig 
ures,  he  replied,  "  Tell  the  Pope  that  this  is  easily 
done.  Let  him  reform  the  world  and  he  will  find 
the  pictures  will  reform  themselves."  He  saw 
clearly  that  if  the  corrupt  and  vulgar  eyes,  that 
could  see  nothing  but  indecorum  in  his  terrific 
prophets  and  angels,  could  be  purified  as  his  own 
were  pure,  they  would  only  find  occasion  for  devo 
tion  in  the  same  figures.  As  he  refused  to  undo 
his  work,  Daniel  di  Volterra  was  employed  to  clothe 
the  figures ;  hence  ludicrously  called  II  Braghet- 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  133 

tone.  When  the  Pope  suggested  to  him  that  the 
chapel  would  be  enriched  if  the  figures  were  orna 
mented  with  gold,  Michael  Angelo  replied,  "  In 
those  days,  gold  was  not  worn ;  and  the  characters 
I  have  painted  were  neither  rich  nor  desirous  of 
wealth,  but  holy  men,  with  whom  gold  was  an  ob 
ject  of  contempt." 

Not  until  he  was  in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his 
age,  he  undertook  the  building  of  St.  Peter's.  On 
the  death  of  San  Gallo,  the  architect  of  the  church, 
Paul  III.  first  entreated,  then  commanded  the  aged 
artist,  to  assume  the  charge  of  this  great  work, 
which  though  commenced  forty  years  before,  was 
only  commenced  by  Bramante,  and  ill  continued 
by  San  Gallo.  Michael  Angelo,  who  believed  in 
his  own  ability  as  a  sculptor,  but  distrusted  his 
capacity  as  an  architect,  at  first  refused  and  then 
reluctantly  complied.  His  heroic  stipulation  with 
the  Pope  was  worthy  of  the  man  and  the  work. 
He  required  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  accept 
this  work  without  any  fee  or  reward,  because  he 
undertook  it  as  a  religious  act ;  and,  furthermore, 
that  he  should  be  absolute  master  of  the  whole  de 
sign,  free  to  depart  from  the  plans  of  San  Gallo 
and  to  alter  what  had  been  already  done. 

This  disinterestedness  and  spirit,  —  no  fee  and 
no  interference, — reminds  one  of  the  reward  named 
by  the  ancient  Persian.  When  importuned  to  claim 


134  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

some  compensation  of  the  empire  for  the  important 
services  he  had  rendered  it,  he  demanded,  "that 
he  and  his  should  neither  command  nor  obey,  but 
should  be  free."  However,  as  it  was  undertaken, 
so  was  it  performed.  When  the  Pope,  delighted 
with  one  of  his  chapels,  sent  him  one  hundred 
crowns  of  gold,  as  one  month's  wages,  Michael  sent 
them  back.  The  Pope  was  angry,  but  the  artist 
was  immovable.  Amidst  endless  annoyances  from 
the  envy  and  interest  of  the  office-holders  and 
agents  in  the  work  whom  he  had  displaced,  he 
steadily  ripened  and  executed  his  vast  ideas.  The 
combined  desire  to  fulfil,  in  everlasting  stone,  the 
conceptions  of  his  mind,  and  to  complete  his  worthy 
offering  to  Almighty  God,  sustained  him  through 
numberless  vexations  with  unbroken  spirit.  In 
answer  to  the  importunate  solicitations  of  the  Duke 
of  Tuscany  that  he  would  come  to  Florence,  he 
replies  that  "  to  leave  St.  Peter's  in  the  state  in 
which  it  now  was,  would  be  to  ruin  the  structure, 
and  thereby  be  guilty  of  a  great  sin ; "  that  he 
hoped  he  should  shortly  see  the  execution  of  his 
plans  brought  to  such  a  point  that  they  could  no 
longer  be  interfered  with,  and  this  was  the  capital 
object  of  his  wishes,  "  if,"  he  adds,  "  I  do  not  com 
mit  a  great  crime,  by  disappointing  the  cormorants 
who  are  daily  hoping  to  get  rid  of  me." 

A  natural  fruit  of  the  nobility  of  his  spirit  is  his 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  135 

admiration  of  Dante,  to  whom  two  of  his  sonnets 
are  addressed.  He  shared  Dante's  "  deep  contempt 
of  the  vulgar,  not  of  the  simple  inhabitants  of  lowly 
streets  or  humble  cottages,  but  of  that  sordid  and 
abject  crowd  of  all  classes  and  all  places  who  ob 
scure,  as  much  as  in  them  lies,  every  beam  of 
beauty  in  the  universe."  In  like  manner,  he  pos 
sessed  an  intense  love  of  solitude.  He  lived  alone, 
and  never  or  very  rarely  took  his  meals  with  any 
person.  As  will  be  supposed,  he  had  a  passion  for 
the  country,  and  in  old  age  speaks  with  extreme 
pleasure  of  his  residence  with  the  hermits  in  the 
mountains  of  Spoleto ;  so  much  so  that  he  says  he  is 
"  only  half  in  Rome,  since,  truly,  peace  is  only  to 
be  found  in  the  woods."  Traits  of  an  almost  sav 
age  independence  mark  all  his  history.  Although 
he  was  rich,  he  lived  like  a  poor  man,  and  never 
would  receive  a  present  from  any  person  ;  because 
it  seemed  to  him  that  if  a  man  gave  him  anything, 
he  was  always  obligated  to  that  individual.  His 
friend  Vasari  mentions  one  occasion  on  which  his 
scruples  were  overcome.  It  seems  that  Michael 
was  accustomed  to  work  at  night  with  a  pasteboard 
cap  or  helmet  on  his  head,  into  which  he  stuck  a 
candle,  that  his  work  might  be  lighted  and  his 
hands  at  liberty.  Vasari  observed  that  he  did  not 
use  wax  candles,  but  a  better  sort  made  of  the  tal 
low  of  goats.  He  therefore  sent  him  four  bundles 


136  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

of  them,  containing  forty  pounds.  His  servant 
brought  them  after  night-fall,  and  presented  them 
to  him.  Michael  Angelo  refused  to  receive  them. 
"  Look  you,  Messer  Michael  Angelo,"  replied  the 
man,  "these  candles  have  well  nigh  broken  my 
arm,  and  I  will  not  carry  them  back ;  but  just  here, 
before  your  door,  is  a  spot  of  soft  mud,  and  they 
will  stand  upright  in  it  very  well,  and  there  I  will 
light  them  all." — "  Put  them  down,  then,"  returned 
Michael,  "since  you  shall  not  make  a  bonfire  at 
my  gate."  Meantime  he  was  liberal  to  profusion 
to  his  old  domestic  Urbino,  to  whom  he  gave  at  one 
time  two  thousand  crowns,  and  made  him  rich  in 
his  service. 

Michael  Angelo  was  of  that  class  of  men  who 
are  too  superior  to  the  multitude  around  them  to 
command  a  full  and  perfect  sympathy.  They  stand 
in  the  attitude  rather  of  appeal  from  their  contem 
poraries  to  their  race.  It  has  been  the  defect  of 
some  great  men,  that  they  did  not  duly  appreciate 
or  did  not  confess  the  talents  and  virtues  of  others, 
and  so  lacked  one  of  the  richest  sources  of  happi 
ness  and  one  of  the  best  elements  of  humanity. 
This  apathy  perhaps  happens  as  often  from  pre 
occupied  attention  as  from  jealousy.  It  has  been 
supposed  that  artists  more  than  others  are  liable  to 
this  defect.  But  Michael  Angelo's  praise  on  many 
works  is  to  this  day  the  stamp  of  fame.  Michael 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  137 

Angelo  said  of  Masaccio's  pictures  that  wnen  they 
were  first  painted  .they  must  have  been  alive.  He 
said  of  his  predecessor,  the  architect  Bramante, 
that  he  laid  the  first  stone  of  St.  Peter's,  clear, 
insulated,  luminous,  with  fit  design  for  a  vast 
structure.  He  often  expressed  his  admiration  of 
Cellini's  bust  of  Altoviti.  He  loved  to  express 
admiration  of  Titian,  of  Donatello,  of  Ghiberti,  of 
Brunelleschi.  And  it  is  said  that  when  he  left 
Florence  to  go  to  Rome,  to  build  St.  Peter's,  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  on  the  last  hill  from  which 
the  noble  dome  of  the  Cathedral  ( built  by  Brunel 
leschi)  is  visible,  and  said,  "  Like  you,  I  will  not 
build ;  better  than  you  I  cannot."  Indeed,  as  we 
have  said,  the  reputation  of  many  works  of  art 
now  in  Italy  derives  a  sanction  from  the  tradition 
of  his  praise.  It  is  more  commendation  to  say, 
"  This  was  Michael  Angelo's  favorite,"  than  to  say, 
"This  was  carried  to  Paris  by  Napoleon."  Mi 
chael,  however,  had  the  philosophy  to  say,  "  Only 
an  inventor  can  use  the  inventions  of  others." 

There  is  yet  one  more  trait  in  Michael  Angelo's 
history,  which  humanizes  his  character  without  les 
sening  its  loftiness  ;  this  is  his  platonic  love.  He 
was  deeply  enamored  of  the  most  accomplished 
lady  of  the  time,  Vittoria  Colonna,  the  widow  of 
the  Marquis  di  Pescara,  who,  after  the  death  of  her 
husband,  devoted  herself  to  letters,  and  to  the  writ- 


138  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

ing  of  religious  poetry.  She  was  also  an  admirer 
of  his  genius,  and  came  to  Rome  repeatedly  to  see 
him.  To  her  his  sonnets  are  addressed  ;  and  they 
all  breathe  a  chaste  and  divine  regard,  unparalleled 
in  any  amatory  poetry  except  that  of  Dante  and 
Petrarch.  They  are  founded  on  the  thought  that 
beauty  is  the  virtue  of  the  body,  as  virtue  is  the 
beauty  of  the  soul ;  that  a  beautiful  person  is  sent 
into  the  world  as  an  image  of  the  divine  beauty, 
not  to  provoke  but  to  purify  the  sensual  into  an 
intellectual  and  divine  love.  He  enthrones  his 
mistress  as  a  benignant  angel,  who  is  to  refine  and 
perfect  his  own  character.  Condivi,  his  friend, 
has  left  this  testimony ;  "  I  have  often  heard  Mi 
chael  Angelo  reason  and  discourse  upon  love,  but 
never  heard  him  speak  otherwise  than  upon  pla- 
tonic  love.  As  for  me,  I  am  ignorant  what  Plato 
has  said  upon  this  subject ;  but  this  I  know  very 
well,  that,  in  a  long  intimacy,  I  never  heard  from 
his  mouth  a  single  word  that  was  not  perfectly  de 
corous  and  having  for  its  object  to  extinguish  in 
youth  every  improper  desire,  and  that  his  own 
nature  is  a  stranger  to  depravity."  The  poems 
themselves  cannot  be  read  without  awakening  sen 
timents  of  virtue.  An  eloquent  vindication  of  their 
philosophy  may  be  found  in  a  paper  by  Signer 
Radici  in  the  London  "  Retrospective  Review," 
and,  by  the  Italian  scholar,  in  the  Discourse  of 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  139 

Benedetto  Varchi  upon  one  sonnet  of  Michael 
Angelo,  contained  in  the  volume  of  his  poems  pub 
lished  by  Biagioli,  from  which,  in  substance,  the 
views  of  Radici  are  taken. 

Towards  his  end,  there  seems  to  have  grown  in 
him  an  invincible  appetite  of  dying,  for  he  knew 
that  his  spirit  could  only  enjoy  contentment  after 
death.  So  vehement  was  this  desire  that,  he  says, 
"  my  soul  can  no  longer  be  appeased  by  the  wonted 
seductions  of  painting  and  sculpture."  A  fine  mel 
ancholy,  not  unrelieved  by  his  habitual  heroism, 
pervades  his  thoughts  on  this  subject.  At  the  age 
of  eighty  years,  he  wrote  to  Vasari,  sending  him 
various  spiritual  sonnets  he  had  written,  and  tells 
him  he  "  is  at  the  end  of  his  life,  that  he  is  careful 
where  he  bends  his  thoughts,  that  he  sees  it  is  al 
ready  twenty-four  o'clock,  and  no  fancy  arose  in  his 
mind  but  DEATH  was  sculptured  on  it."  In  conver 
sing  upon  this  subject  with  one  of  his  friends,  that 
person  remarked,  that  Michael  might  well  grieve 
that  one  who  was  incessant  in  his  creative  labors 
should  have  no  restoration.  "  No,"  replied  Michael, 
"it  is  nothing ;  for,  if  life  pleases  us,  death,  being 
a  work  of  the  same  master,  ought  not  to  displease 
us."  But  a  nobler  sentiment,  uttered  by  him,  is 
contained  in  his  reply  to  a  letter  of  Vasari,  who  had 
informed  him  of  the  rejoicings  made  at  the  house 
of  his  nephew  Lionardo,  at  Florence,  over  the  birth 


140  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

of  another  Buonarotti.  Michael  admonishes  him 
that  "a  man  ought  not  to  smile,  when  all  those 
around  him  weep ;  and  that  we  ought  not  to  show 
that  joy  when  a  child  is  born,  which  should  be  re 
served  for  the  death  of  one  who  has  lived  well." 

Amidst  all  these  witnesses  to  his  independence, 
his  generosity,  his  purity  and  his  devotion,  are  we 
not  authorized  to  say  that  this  man  was  penetrated 
with  the  love  of  the  highest  beauty,  that  is,  good 
ness  ;  that  his  was  a  soul  so  enamored  of  grace, 
that  it  could  not  stoop  to  meanness  or  depravity ; 
that  art  was  to  him  no  means  of  livelihood  or  road 
to  fame,  but  the  end  of  living,  as  it  was  the  organ 
through  which  he  sought  to  suggest  lessons  of  an 
unutterable  wisdom ;  that  here  was  a  man  who 
lived  to  demonstrate  that  to  the  human  faculties, 
on  every  hand,  worlds  of  grandeur  and  grace  are 
opened,  which  no  profane  eye  and  no  indolent  eye 
can  behold,  but  which  to  see  and  to  enjoy,  demands 
the  severest  discipline  of  all  the  physical,  intellect 
ual  and  moral  faculties  of  the  individual  ? 

The  city  of  Florence,  on  the  river  Arno,  still 
treasures  the  fame  of  this  man.  There,  his  picture 
hangs  in  every  window ;  there,  the  tradition  of  his 
opinions  meets  the  traveller  in  every  spot.  "Do 
you  see  that  statue  of  St.  George  ?  Michael  An- 
gelo  asked  it  why  it  did  not  speak."  —  "  Do  you 
see  this  fine  church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella  ?  It 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  141 

is  that  which  Michael  Angelo  called  '  his  bride.' ' 
—  "  Look  at  these  bronze  gates  of  the  Baptistery, 
with  their  high  reliefs,  cast  by  Ghiberti  five  hun 
dred  years  ago.  Michael  Angelo  said,  '  they  were 
fit  to  be  the  gates  of  Paradise.'  "  —  Here  is  the 
church,  the  palace,  the  Laurentian  library,  he  built. 
Here  is  his  own  house.  In  the  church  of  Santa 
Croce  are  his  mortal  remains.  Whilst  he  was  yet 
alive,  he  asked  that  he  might  be  buried  in  that 
church,  in  such  a  spot  that  the  dome  of  the  cathe 
dral  might  be  visible  from  his  tomb  when  the  doors 
of  the  church  stood  open.  And  there  and  so  is 
he  laid.  The  innumerable  pilgrims  whom  the  gen 
ius  of  Italy  draws  to  the  city,  duly  visit  this  church, 
which  is  to  Florence  what  Westminster  Abbey  is 
to  England.  There,  near  the  tomb  of  Nicholas 
Machiavelli,  the  historian  and  philosopher ;  of  Gali 
leo,  the  great-hearted  astronomer ;  of  Boccaccio, 
and  of  Alfieri,  stands  the  monument  of  Michael 
Angelo  Buonarotti.  Three  significant  garlands  are 
sculptured  on  the  tomb ;  they  should  be  four,  but 
that  his  countrymen  feared  their  own  partiality. 
The  forehead  of  the  bust,  esteemed  a  faithful  like 
ness,  is  furrowed  with  eight  deep  wrinkles  one 
above  another.  The  traveller  from  a  distant  conti 
nent,  who  gazes  on  that  marble  brow,  feels  that  he 
is  not  a  stranger  in  the  foreign  church ;  for  the 
great  name  of  Michael  Angelo  sounds  hospitably 


142  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

in  his  ear.  He  was  not  a  citizen  of  any  country  ; 
he  belonged  to  the  human  race ;  he  was  a  brother 
and  a  friend  to  all  who  acknowledge  the  beauty 
that  beams  in  universal  nature,  and  who  seek  by 
labor  and  self-denial  to  approach  its  source  in  per 
fect  goodness. 


MILTON. 


I  FRAMED  his  tongue  to  music, 
I  armed  his  hand  with  skill, 

I  moulded  his  face  to  beauty, 
And  his  heart  the  throne  of  wifl. 


MILTON.1 


THE  discovery  of  the  lost  work  of  Milton,  the 
treatise  "Of  the  Christian  Doctrine,"  in  1823, 
drew  a  sudden  attention  to  his  name.  For  a  short 
time  the  literary  journals  were  filled  with  disquisi 
tions  on  his  genius ;  new  editions  of  his  works,  and 
new  compilations  of  his  life,  were  published.  But 
the  new-found  book  having  in  itself  less  attraction 
than  any  other  work  of  Milton,  the  curiosity  of  the 
public  as  quickly  subsided,  and  left  the  poet  to  the 
enjoyment  of  his  permanent  fame,  or  to  such  in 
crease  or  abatement  of  it  only  as  is  incidental  to  a 
sublime  genius,  quite  independent  of  the  momen 
tary  challenge  of  universal  attention  to  his  claims. 

But  if  the  new  and  temporary  renown  of  the 
poet  is  silent  again,  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  he 
has  gained,  in  this  age,  some  increase  of  permanent 
praise.  The  fame  of  a  great  man  is  not  rigid  and 
stony  like  his  bust.  It  changes  with  time.  It 
needs  time  to  give  it  due  perspective.  It  was  very 
easy  to  remark  an  altered  tone  in  the  criticism 

1  Reprinted  from  the  North  American  Revieiv,  July,  1838. 


146  MILTON. 

when  Milton  re-appeared  as  an  author,  fifteen  years 
ago,  from  any  that  had  been  bestowed  on  the  same 
subject  before.  It  implied  merit  indisputable  and 
illustrious  ;  yet  so  near  to  the  modern  mind  as  to  be 
still  alive  and  life-giving.  The  aspect  of  Milton, 
to  this  generation,  will  be  part  of  the  history  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  There  is  no  name  in  English 
literature  between  his  age  and  ours  that  rises  into 
any  approach  to  his  own.  And  as  a  man's  fame, 
of  course,  characterizes  those  who  give  it,  as  much 
as  him  who  receives  it,  the  new  criticism  indicated 
a  change  in  the  public  taste,  and  a  change  which 
the  poet  himself  might  claim  to  have  wrought. 

The  reputation  of  Milton  had  already  undergone 
one  or  two  revolutions  long  anterior  to  its  recent 
aspects.  In  his  lifetime,  he  was  little  or  not  at  all 
known  as  a  poet,  but  obtained  great  respect  from 
his  contemporaries  as  an  accomplished  scholar  and 
a  formidable  pamphleteer.  His  poem  fell  unre 
garded  among  his  countrymen.  His  prose  writings, 
especially  the  "  Defence  of  the  English  People," 
seem  to  have  been  read  with  avidity.  These  tracts 
are  remarkable  compositions.  They  are  earnest, 
spiritual,  rich  with  allusion,  sparkling  with  innu 
merable  ornaments ;  but,  as  writings  designed  to 
gain  a  practical  point,  they  fail.  They  are  not 
effective,  like  similar  productions  of  Swift  and 
Burke ;  or,  like  what  became  also  controversial 


MILTON.  147 

tracts,  several  masterly  speeches  in  the  history  of 
the  American  Congress.  Milton  seldom  deigns  a 
glance  at  the  obstacles  that  are  to  be  overcome 
before  that  which  he  proposes  can  be  done.  There 
is  no  attempt  to  conciliate,  —  no  mediate,  no  pre 
paratory  course  suggested,  —  but,  peremptory  and 
impassioned,  he  demands,  on  the  instant,  an  ideal 
justice.  Therein  they  are  discriminated  from  mod 
ern  writings,  in  which  a  regard  to  the  actual  is  all 
but  universal. 

Their  rhetorical  excellence  must  also  suffer  some 
deduction.  They  have  no  perfectness.  These  writ 
ings  are  wonderful  for  the  truth,  the  learning,  the 
subtilty  and  pomp  of  the  language ;  but  the  whole 
is  sacrificed  to  the  particular.  Eager  to  do  fit  jus 
tice  to  each  thought,  he  does  not  subordinate  it  so 
as  to  project  the  main  argument.  He  writes  whilst 
he  is  heated ;  the  piece  shows  all  the  rambles  and 
resources  of  indignation,  but  he  has  never  inte 
grated  the  parts  of  the  argument  in  his  mind.  The 
reader  is  fatigued  with  admiration,  but  is  not  yet 
master  of  the  subject. 

Two  of  his  pieces  may  be  excepted  from  this  de 
scription,  one  for  its  faults,  the  other  for  its  excel 
lence.  The  "  Defence  of  the  People  of  England," 
on  which  his  contemporary  fame  was  founded,  is, 
when  divested  of  its  pure  Latinity,  the  worst  of  his 
works.  Only  its  general  aim,  and  a  few  elevated 


148  MILTON. 

passages,  can  save  it.  We  could  be  well  content, 
if  the  flames  to  which  it  was  condemned  at  Paris, 
at  Toulouse,  and  at  London,  had  utterly  consumed 
it.  The  lover  of  his  genius  will  always  regret  that 
he  should  not  have  taken  counsel  of  his  own  lofty 
heart  at  this,  as  at  other  times,  and  have  written 
from  the  deep  convictions  of  love  and  right,  which 
are  the  foundations  of  civil  liberty.  There  is  little 
poetry  or  prophecy  in  this  mean  and  ribald  scold 
ing.  To  insult  Salmasius,  not  to  acquit  England, 
is  the  main  design.  What  under  heaven  had 
Madame  de  Saumaise,  or  the  manner  of  living  of 
Saumaise,  or  Salmasius,  or  his  blunders  of  grammar, 
or  his  niceties  of  diction,  to  do  with  the  solemn 
question  whether  Charles  Stuart  had  been  rightly 
slain?  Though  it  evinces  learning  and  critical 
skill,  yet,  as  an  historical  argument,  it  cannot  be 
valued  with  similar  disquisitions  of  Eobertson  and 
Hallam,  and  even  less  celebrated  scholars.  But, 
when  he  comes  to  speak  of  the  reason  of  the  thing, 
then  he  always  recovers  himself.  The  voice  of  the 
mob  is  silent,  and  Milton  speaks.  And  the  perora 
tion,  in  which  he  implores  his  countrymen  to  refute 
this  adversary  by  their  great  deeds,  is  in  a  just 
spirit.  The  other  piece  is  his  "  Areopagitica,"  the 
discourse,  addressed  to  the  Parliament,  in  favor  of 
removing  the  censorship  of  the  press  ;  the  most 
splendid  of  his  prose  works.  It  is,  as  Luther  said 


MILTON.  149 

of  one  of  Melancthon's  writings,  "  alive,  hath  hands 
and  feet,  —  and  not  like  Erasmus's  sentences,  which 
were  made,  not  grown."  The  weight  of  the  thought 
is  equalled  by  the  vivacity  of  the  expression,  and 
it  cheers  as  well  as  teaches.  This  tract  is  far  the 
best  known  and  the  most  read  of  all,  and  is  still  a 
magazine  of  reasons  for  the  freedom  of  the  press. 
It  is  valuable  in  history  as  an  argument  addressed 
to  a  government  to  produce  a  practical  end,  and 
plainly  presupposes  a  very  peculiar  state  of  so 
ciety. 

But  deeply  as  that  peculiar  state  of  society,  in 
which  and  for  which  Milton  wrote,  has  engraved 
itself  in  the  remembrance  of  the  world,  it  shares 
the  destiny  which  overtakes  everything  local  and 
personal  in  nature ;  and  the  accidental  facts  on 
which  a  battle  of  principles  was  fought  have  already 
passed,  or  are  fast  passing,  into  oblivion.  We  have 
lost  all  interest  in  Milton  as  the  redoubted  dispu 
tant  of  a  sect ;  but  by  his  own  innate  worth  this 
man  has  steadily  risen  in  the  world's  reverence, 
and  occupies  a  more  imposing  place  in  the  mind  of 
men  at  this  hour  than  ever  before. 

It  is  the  aspect  which  he  presents  to  this  gener 
ation,  that  alone  concerns  us.  Milton  the  polemic 
has  lost  his  popularity  long  ago  ;  and  if  we  skip  the 
pages  of  "  Paradise  Lost  "  where  "  God  the  Father 
argues  like  a  school  divine,"  so  did  the  next  age  to 


150  MILTON. 

his  own.  But,  we  are  persuaded,  he  kindles  a  love 
and  emulation  in  us  which  he  did  not  in  foregoing 
generations.  We  think  we  have  seen  and  heard 
criticism  upon  the  poems,  which  the  bard  himself 
would  have  more  valued  than  the  recorded  praise 
of  Dryden,  Addison  and  Johnson,  because  it  came 
nearer  to  the  mark  ;  was  finer  and  closer  apprecia 
tion  ;  the  praise  of  intimate  knowledge  and  delight ; 
and,  of  course,  more  welcome  to  the  poet  than  the 
general  and  vague  acknowledgment  of  his  genius 
by  those  able  but  unsympathizing  critics.  We 
think  we  have  heard  the  recitation  of  his  verses  by 
genius  which  found  in  them  that  which  itself  would 
say ;  recitation  which  told,  in  the  diamond  sharp 
ness  of  every  articulation,  that  now  first  was  such 
perception  and  enjoyment  possible  ;  the  perception 
and  enjoyment  of  all  his  varied  rhythm,  and  his 
perfect  fusion  of  the  classic  and  the  English  styles. 
This  is  a  poet's  right ;  for  every  masterpiece  of  art 
goes  on  for  some  ages  reconciling  the  world  unto 
itself,  and  despotically  fashioning  the  public  ear. 
The  opposition  to  it,  always  greatest  at  first,  con 
tinually  decreases  and  at  last  ends ;  and  a  new 
race  grows  up  in  the  taste  and  spirit  of  the  work, 
with  the  utmost  advantage  for  seeing  intimately  its 
power  and  beauty. 

But  it  would  be  great  injustice  to  Milton  to  con 
sider  him  as  enjoying  merely  a  critical  reputation. 


MILTON.  151 

It  is  the  prerogative  of  this  great  man  to  stand  at 
this  hour  foremost  of  all  men  in  literary  history, 
and  so  (shall  we  not  say  ?)  of  all  men,  in  the  power 
to  inspire.  Virtue  goes  out  of  him  into  others. 
Leaving  out  of  view  the  pretensions  of  our  con 
temporaries  (always  an  incalculable  influence),  we 
think  no  man  can  be  named  whose  mind  still  acts 
on  the  cultivated  intellect  of  England  and  America 
with  an  energy  comparable  to  that  of  Milton.  As 
a  poet,  Shakspeare  undoubtedly  transcends,  and 
far  surpasses  him  in  his  popularity  with  foreign 
nations ;  but  Shakspeare  is  a  voice  merely ;  who 
and  what  he  was  that  sang,  that  sings,  we  know 
not.  Milton  stands  erect,  commanding,  still  visi 
ble  as  a  man  among  men,  and  reads  the  laws  of  the 
moral  sentiment  to  the  new-born  race.  There  is 
something  pleasing  in  the  affection  with  which  we 
can  regard  i  a  man  who  died  a  hundred  and  sixty 
years  ago  in  the  other  hemisphere,  who,  in  respect 
to  personal  relations,  is  to  us  as  the  wind,  yet  by 
an  influence  purely  spiritual  makes  us  jealous  for 
his  fame  as  for  that  of  a  near  friend.  He  is  iden 
tified  in  the  mind  with  all  select  and  holy  images, 
with  the  supreme  interests  of  the  human  race.  If 
hereby  we  attain  any  more  precision,  we  proceed  to 
say  that  we  think  no  man  in  these  later  ages,  and 
few  men  ever,  possessed  so  great  a  conception  of 
the  manly  character.  Better  than  any  other  he  has 


152  MILTON. 

discharged  the  office  of  every  great  man,  namely, 
to  raise  the  idea  of  Man  in  the  minds  of  his  con 
temporaries  and  of  posterity,  —  to  draw  after  na 
ture  a  life  of  man,  exhibiting  such  a  composition  of 
grace,  of  strength  and  of  virtue,  as  poet  had  not 
described  nor  hero  lived.  Human  nature  in  these 
ages  is  indebted  to  him  for  its  best  portrait.  Many 
philosophers  in  England,  France  and  Germany, 
have  formerly  dedicated  their  study  to  this  prob 
lem  ;  and  we  think  it  impossible  to  recall  one  in 
those  countries  who  communicates  the  same  vibra 
tion  of  hope,  of  self-reverence,  of  piety,  of  delight 
in  beauty,  which  the  name  of  Milton  awakens. 
Lord  Bacon,  who  has  written  much  and  with  pro 
digious  ability  on  this  science,  shrinks  and  falters 
before  the  absolute  and  uncourtly  Puritan.  Ba 
con's  Essays  are  the  portrait  of  an  ambitious  and 
profound  calculator,  —  a  great  man  of  the  vulgar 
sort.  Of  the  upper  world  of  man's  being  they 
speak  few  and  faint  words.  The  man  of  Locke  is 
virtuous  without  enthusiasm  and  intelligent  with 
out  poetry.  Addison,  Pope,  Hume  and  Johnson, 
students,  with  very  unlike  temper  and  success,  of 
the  same  subject,  cannot,  taken  together,  make  any 
pretension  to  the  amount  or  the  quality  of  Milton's 
inspirations.  The  man  of  Lord  Chesterfield  is  un 
worthy  to  touch  his  garment's  hem.  Franklin's 
man  is  a  frugal,  inoffensive,  thrifty  citizen,  but  sa- 


MILTON.  153 

vors  of  nothing  heroic.  The  genius  of  France  has 
not,  even  in  her  best  days,  yet  culminated  in  any 
one  head,  —  not  in  Kousseau,  not  in  Pascal,  not  in 
Fenelon,  — into  such  perception  of  all  the  attributes 
of  humanity  as  to  entitle  it  to  any  rivalry  in  these 
lists.  In  Germany,  the  greatest  writers  are  still 
too  recent  to  institute  a  comparison ;  and  yet  we 
are  tempted  to  say  that  art  and  not  life  seems  to  be 
the  end  of  their  effort.  But  the  idea  of  a  purer 
existence  than  any  he  saw  around  him,  to  be  real 
ized  in  the  life  and  conversation  of  men,  inspired 
every  act  and  every  writing  of  John  Milton.  He 
defined  the  object  of  education  to  be,  "  to  fit  a  man 
to  perform  justly,  skilfully  and  magnanimously  all 
the  offices,  both  private  and  public,  of  peace  and 
war."  He  declared  that  "  he  who  would  aspire  to 
write  well  hereafter  in  laudable  things,  ought  him 
self  to  be  a  true  poem  ;  that  is,  a  composition  and 
pattern  of  the  best  and  honorablest  things,  not  pre 
suming  to  sing  high  praises  of  heroic  men  or  famous 
cities,  unless  he  have  in  himself  the  experience  and 
the  practice  of  all  that  which  is  praiseworthy." 
Nor  is  there  in  literature  a  more  noble  outline  of  a 
wise  external  education,  than  that  which  he  drew 
up,  at  the  age  of  thirty-six,  in  his  Letter  to  Samuel 
Hartlib.  The  muscles,  the  nerves  and  the  flesh 
with  which  this  skeleton  is  to  be  filled  up  and  cov 
ered,  exist  in  his  works  and  must  be  sought  there. 


154  MILTON. 

For  the  delineation  of  this  heroic  image  of  man, 
Milton  enjoyed  singular  advantages.  Perfections 
of  body  and  of  mind  are  attributed  to  him  by  his 
biographers,  that,  if  the  anecdotes  had  come  down 
from  a  greater  distance  of  time,  or  had  not  been  in 
part  furnished  or  corroborated  by  political  enemies, 
would  lead  us  to  suspect  the  portraits  were  ideal, 
like  the  Cyrus  of  Xenophon,  the  Telemachus  of 
Fe*nelon,  or  the  popular  traditions  of  Alfred  the 
Great. 

Handsome  to  a  proverb,  he  was  called  the  lady 
of  his  college.  Aubrey  says,  "  This  harmonical  and 
ingenuous  soul  dwelt  in  a  beautiful  and  well-pro 
portioned  body."  His  manners  and  his  carriage 
did  him  no  injustice.  Wood,  his  political  opponent, 
relates  that  "  his  deportment  was  affable,  his  gait 
erect  and  manly,  bespeaking  courage  and  un- 
dauntedness."  Aubrey  adds  a  sharp  trait,  that  "  he 
pronounced  the  letter  R  very  hard,  a  certain  sign  of 
satirical  genius."  He  had  the  senses  of  a  Greek. 
His  eye  was  quick,  and  he  was  accounted  an  excel 
lent  master  of  his  rapier.  His  ear  for  music  was  so 
acute,  that  he  was  not  only  enthusiastic  in  his  love, 
but  a  skilful  performer  himself ;  and  his  voice,  we 
are  told,  was  delicately  sweet  and  harmonious.  He 
insists  that  music  shall  make  a  part  of  a  generous 
education. 

With  these  keen  perceptions,  he  naturally  re- 


MILTON.  155 

ceived  a  love  of  nature  and  a  rare  susceptibility  to 
impressions  from  external  beauty.  In  the  midst 
of  London,  he  seems,  like  the  creatures  of  the  field 
and  the  forest,  to  have  been  tuned  in  concord  with 
the  order  of  the  world ;  for,  he  believed,  his  poetic 
vein  only  flowed  from  the  autumnal  to  the  vernal 
equinox ;  and,  in  his  essay  on  Education,  he  doubts 
whether,  in  the  fine  days  of  spring,  any  study  can 
be  accomplished  by  young  men.  "  In  those  vernal 
seasons  of  the  year  when  the  air  is  calm  and  pleas 
ant,  it  were  an  injury  and  sullenness  against  nature 
not  to  go  out  and  see  her  riches  and  partake  in  her 
rejoicing  with  heaven  and  earth."  His  sensibility 
to  impressions  from  beauty  needs  no  proof  from  his 
history ;  it  shines  through  every  page.  The  form 
and  the  voice  of  Leonora  Baroni  seemed  to  have 
captivated  him  in  Eome,  and  to  her  he  addressed 
his  Italian  sonnets  and  Latin  epigrams. 

To  these  endowments  it  must  be  added  that  his 
address  and  his  conversation  were  worthy  of  his 
fame.  His  house  was  resorted  to  by  men  of  wit, 
and  foreigners  came  to  England,  we  are  told,  "  to 
see  the  Lord  Protector  and  Mr.  Milton."  In  a  let 
ter  to  one  of  his  foreign  correspondents,  Emeric  Bi 
got,  and  in  reply  apparently  to  some  compliment  on 
his  powers  of  conversation,  he  writes  :  "  Many  have 
been  celebrated  for  their  compositions,  whose  com 
mon  conversation  and  intercourse  have  betrayed  no 


156  MILTON. 

marks  of  sublimity  or  genius.  But,  as  far  as  possi 
ble,  I  aim  to  show  myself  equal  in  thought  and 
speech  to  what  I  have  written,  if  I  have  written 
anything  well." 

These  endowments  received  the  benefit  of  a  care 
ful  and  happy  discipline.  His  father's  care,  sec 
onded  by  his  own  endeavor,  introduced  him  to  a 
profound  skill  in  all  the  treasures  of  Latin,  Greek, 
Hebrew  and  Italian  tongues;  and,  to  enlarge  and 
enliven  his  elegant  learning,  he  was  sent  into  Italy, 
where  he  beheld  the  remains  of  ancient  art,  and 
the  rival  works  of  Kaphael,  Michael  Angelo  and 
Correggio ;  where,  also,  he  received  social  and  ac 
ademical  honors  from  the  learned  and  the  great. 
In  Paris,  he  became  acquainted  with  Grotius  ;  in 
Florence  or  Rome,  with  Galileo ;  and  probably  no 
traveller  ever  entered  that  country  of  history  with 
better  right  to  its  hospitality,  none  upon  whom  its 
influences  could  have  fallen  more  congenially. 

Among  the  advantages  of  his  foreign  travel,  Mil 
ton  certainly  did  not  count  it  the  least  that  it  con 
tributed  to  forge  and  polish  that  great  weapon  of 
which  he  acquired  such  extraordinary  mastery, — 
his  power  of  language.  His  lore  of  foreign  tongues 
added  daily  to  his  consummate  skill  in  the  use  of 
his  own.  He  was  a  benefactor  of  the  English 
tongue  by  showing  its  capabilities.  Very  early  in 
life  he  became  conscious  that  he  had  more  to  say  to 


MILTON.  157 

his  fellow-men  than  they  had  fit  words  to  embody. 
At  nineteen  years,  in  a  college  exercise,  he  ad 
dresses  his  native  language,  saying  to  it  that  it 
would  be  his  choice  to  leave  trifles  for  a  grave  argu 
ment, 

"  Such  as  may  make  thee  search  thy  coffers  round, 
Before  thou  clothe  my  fancy  in  fit  sound  ; 
Such  where  the  deep  transported  mind  may  soar 
Above  the  wheeling  poles,  and  at  Heaven's  door 
Look  in,  and  see  each  blissful  deity, 
How  he  before  the  thunderous  throne  doth  lie." 

Michael  Angelo  calls  "  him  alone  an  artist,  whose 
hands  can  execute  what  his  mind  has  conceived." 
The  world,  no  doubt,  contains  many  of  that  class 
of  men  whom  Wordsworth  denominates  "  silent 
poets,"  whose  minds  teem  with  images  which  they 
want  words  to  clothe.  But  Milton's  mind  seems  to 
have  no  thought  or  emotion  which  refused  to  be 
recorded.  His  mastery  of  his  native  tongue  was 
more  than  to  use  it  as  well  as  any  other  ;  he  cast  it 
into  new  forms.  He  uttered  in  it  things  unheard 
before.  Not  imitating  but  rivalling  Shakspeare, 
he  scattered,  in  tones  of  prolonged  and  delicate  mel 
ody,  his  pastoral  and  romantic  fancies ;  then,  soar 
ing  into  unattempted  strains,  he  made  it  capable  of 
an  unknown  majesty,  and  bent  it  to  express  every 
trait  of  beauty,  every  shade  of  thought ;  and 
searched  the  kennel  and  jakes  as  well  as  the  palaces 


158  MILTON. 

of  sound  for  the  harsh  discords  of  his  polemic  wrath. 
We  may  even  apply  to  his  performance  on  the  in 
strument  of  language,  his  own  description  of  music ; 

"  —  Notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony." 

But,  whilst  Milton  was  conscious  of  possessing 
this  intellectual  voice,  penetrating  through  ages 
and  propelling  its  melodious  undulations  forward 
through  the  coming  world,  he  knew  that  this  mas 
tery  of  language  was  a  secondary  power,  and  he  re 
spected  the  mysterious  source  whence  it  had  its 
spring;  namely,  clear  conceptions  and  a  devoted 
heart.  "  For  me,"  he  said,  in  his  "  Apology  for 
Smectymnuus,"  "  although  I  cannot  say  that  I  am 
utterly  untrained  in  those  rules  which  best  rhetori 
cians  have  given,  or  unacquainted  with  those  exam 
ples  which  the  prime  authors  of  eloquence  have 
written  in  any  learned  tongue,  yet  true  eloquence  I 
find  to  be  none  but  the  serious  and  hearty  love  of 
truth ;  and  that  whose  mind  soever  is  fully  pos 
sessed  with  a  fervent  desire  to  know  good  things, 
and  with  the  dearest  charity  to  infuse  the  knowl 
edge  of  them  into  others,  when  such  a  man  would 
speak,  his  words,  by  what  I  can  express,  like  so 


MILTON.  159 

many  nimble  and  airy  servitors,  trip  about  him 
at  command,  and  in  well-ordered  files,  as  he  would 
wish,  fall  aptly  into  their  own  places." 

But,  as  basis  or  fountain  of  his  rare  physical 
and  intellectual  accomplishments,  the  man  Milton 
was  just  and  devout.  He  is  rightly  dear  to  man 
kind,  because  in  him,  among  so  many  perverse  and 
partial  men  of  genius,  —  in  him  humanity  rights 
itself ;  the  old  eternal  goodness  finds  a  home  in 
his  breast,  and  for  once  shows  itself  beautiful.  His 
gifts  are  subordinated  to  his  moral  sentiments. 
And  his  virtues  are  so  graceful  that  they  seem 
rather  talents  than  labors.  Among  so  many  con 
trivances  as  the  world  has  seen  to  make  holiness 
ugly,  in  Milton  at  least  it  was  so  pure  a  flame, 
that  the  foremost  impression  his  character  makes 
is  that  of  elegance.  The  victories  of  the  conscience 
in  him  are  gained  by  the  commanding  charm  which 
all  the  severe  and  restrictive  virtues  have  for  him. 
His  virtues  remind  us  of  what  Plutarch  said  of 
Timoleon's  victories,  that  they  resembled  Homer's 
verses,  they  ran  so  easy  and  natural.  His  habits 
of  living  were  austere.  He  was  abstemious  in  diet, 
chaste,  an  early  riser,  and  industrious.  He  tells 
us,  in  a  Latin  poem,  that  the  lyrist  may  indulge  in 
wine  and  in  a  freer  life;  but  that  he  who  would 
write  an  epic  to  the  nations,  must  eat  beans  and 
drink  water.  Yet  in  his  severity  is  no  grimace  or 


160  MILTON. 

effort.  He  serves  from  love,  not  from  fear.  He  is 
innocent  and  exact,  because  his  taste  was  so  pure 
and  delicate.  He  acknowledges  to  his  friend  Dio- 
dati,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  that  he  is  enamored, 
if  ever  any  was,  of  moral  perfection  :  "  For,  what 
ever  the  Deity  may  have  bestowed  upon  me  in 
other  respects,  he  has  certainly  inspired  me,  if  any 
ever  were  inspired,  with  a  passion  for  the  good  and 
fair.  Nor  did  Ceres,  according  to  the  fable,  ever 
seek  her  daughter  Proserpine  with  such  unceasing 
solicitude,  as  I  have  sought  this  TOV  KO.XOV  iSeW,  this 
perfect  model  of  the  beautiful  in  all  forms  and  ap 
pearances  of  things." 

When  he  was  charged  with  loose  habits  of  liv 
ing,  he  declares,  that  "  a  certain  niceness  of  na 
ture,  an  honest  haughtiness  and  self-esteem  either 
of  what  I  was  or  what  I  might  be,  and  a  mod 
esty,  kept  me  still  above  those  low  descents  of 
mind  beneath  which  he  must  deject  and  plunge 
himself,  that  can  agree"  to  such  degradation. 
"  His  mind  gave  him,  "  he  said,  "  that  every  free 
and  gentle  spirit,  without  that  oath  of  chastity, 
ought  to  be  born  a  knight ;  nor  needed  to  expect 
the  gilt  spur,  or  the  laying  of  a  sword  upon  his 
shoulder,  to  stir  him  up,  by  his  counsel  and  his 
arm,  to  secure  and  protect "  attempted  innocence. 

He  states  these  things,  he  says,  "  to  show,  that, 
though  Christianity  had  been  but  slightly  taught 


MILTON.  161 

him,  yet  a  certain  reservedness  of  natural  dispo 
sition  and  moral  discipline,  learned  out  of  the 
noblest  philosophy,  was  enough  to  keep  him  in 
disdain  of  far  less  incontinences  than  these, " 
that  had  been  charged  on  him.  In  like  spirit, 
he  replies  to  the  suspicious  calumny  respecting 
his  morning  haunts.  "  Those  morning  haunts  are 
where  they  should  be,  at  home ;  not  sleeping,  or 
concocting  the  surfeits  of  an  irregular  feast,  but 
up  and  stirring,  in  winter,  often  ere  the  sound  of 
any  bell  awake  men  to  labor  or  devotion ;  in  sum 
mer,  as  oft  with  the  bird  that  first  rouses,  or  not 
much  tardier,  to  read  good  authors,  or  cause  them 
to  be  read,  till  the  attention  be  weary,  or  mem 
ory  have  its  perfect  fraught ;  then  with  useful  and 
generous  labors  preserving  the  body's  health  and 
hardiness,  to  render  lightsome,  clear,  and  not 
lumpish  obedience  to  the  mind,  to  the  cause  of 
religion  and  our  country's  liberty,  when  it  shall 
require  firm  hearts  in  sound  bodies  to  stand  and 
cover  their  stations.  These  are  the  morning  prac 
tices.  "  This  native  honor  never  forsook  him. 
It  is  the  spirit  of  "  Comus,"  the  loftiest  song  in 
the  praise  of  chastity  that  is  in  any  language.  It 
always  sparkles  in  his  eyes.  It  breathed  itself 
over  his  decent  form.  It  refined  his  amusements, 
which  consisted  in  gardening,  in  exercise  with  the 
sword,  and  in  playing  on  the  organ.  It  engaged 


162  MILTON. 

his  interest  in  chivalry,  in  courtesy,  in  whatsoever 
savored  of  generosity  and  nobleness.  This  mag 
nanimity  shines  in  all  his  life.  He  accepts  a 
high  impulse  at  every  risk,  and  deliberately  under 
takes  the  defence  of  the  English  people,  when 
advised  by  his  physicians  that  he  does  it  at  the 
cost  of  sight.  There  is  a  forbearance  even  in 
his  polemics.  He  opens  the  war  and  strikes  the 
first  blow.  When  he  had  cut  down  his  oppo 
nents,  he  left  the  details  of  death  and  plunder  to 
meaner  partisans.  He  said,  "  he  had  learned  the 
prudence  of  the  Roman  soldier,  not  to  stand  break 
ing  of  legs,  when  the  breath  was  quite  out  of  the 
body." 

To  this  antique  heroism,  Milton  added  the  gen 
ius  of  the  Christian  sanctity.  Few  men  could 
be  cited  who  have  so  well  understood  what  is  pe 
culiar  in  the  Christian  ethics,  and  the  precise  aid 
it  has  brought  to  men,  in  being  an  emphatic  affir 
mation  of  the  omnipotence  of  spiritual  laws,  and, 
by  way  of  marking  the  contrast  to  vulgar  opin 
ions,  laying  its  chief  stress  on  humility.  The 
indifferency  of  a  wise  mind  to  what  is  called 
high  and  low,  and  the  fact  that  true  greatness 
is  a  perfect  humility,  are  revelations  of  Christian 
ity  which  Milton  well  understood.  They  give  an 
inexhaustible  truth  to  all  his  compositions.  His 
firm  grasp  of  this  truth  is  his  weapon  against 


MILTON.  163 

the  prelates.  He  celebrates  in  the  martyrs,  "  the 
unresistible  might  of  weakness."  He  told  the 
bishops  that  "  instead  of  showing  the  reason  of 
their  lowly  condition  from  divine  example  and 
command,  they  seek  to  prove  their  high  preemi 
nence  from  human  consent  and  authority."  He 
advises  that  in  country  places,  rather  than  to 
trudge  many  miles  to  a  church,  public  worship 
be  maintained  nearer  home,  as  in  a  house  or  barn. 
"  For,  notwithstanding  the  gaudy  superstition  of 
some  still  devoted  ignorantly  to  temples,  we  may 
be  well  assured,  that  he  who  disdained  not  to  be 
born  in  a  manger,  disdains  not  to  be  preached  in 
a  barn."  And  the  following  passage,  in  the  "  Rea 
son  of  Church  Government,"  indicates  his  own 
perception  of  the  doctrine  of  humility.  "Albeit 
I  must  confess  to  be  half  in  doubt  whether  I 
should  bring  it  forth  or  no,  it  being  so  contrary 
to  the  eye  of  the  world,  that  I  shall  endanger 
either  not  to  be  regarded,  or  not  to  be  understood. 
For  who  is  there,  almost,  that  measures  wisdom 
by  simplicity,  strength  by  suffering,  dignity  by 
lowliness  ?  "  Obeying  this  sentiment,  Milton  de 
served  the  apostrophe  of  Wordsworth: 

"  Pure  as  the  naked  heavens,  majestic,  free, 
So  didst  thou  travel  on  life's  common  way 
In  cheerful  godliness  ;  and  yet  thy  heart 
The  lowliest  duties  on  itself  did  lay.  " 


164  MILTON. 

He  laid  on  himself  the  lowliest  duties.  Johnson 
petulantly  taunts  Milton  with  "  great  promise  and 
small  performance,"  in  returning  from  Italy  be 
cause  his  country  was  in  danger,  and  then  opening 
a  private  school.  Milton,  wiser,  felt  no  absurdity 
in  this  conduct.  He  returned  into  his  revolution 
ized  country,  and  assumed  an  honest  and  useful 
task,  by  which  he  might  serve  the  state  daily, 
whilst  he  launched  from  time  to  time  his  formid 
able  bolts  against  the  enemies  of  liberty.  He  felt 
the  heats  of  that  "love"  which  "esteems  no  office 
mean.  "  He  compiled  a  logic  for  boys  ;  he  wrote 
a  grammar ;  and  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  the 
preparing  of  a  Latin  dictionary.  But  the  religious 
sentiment  warmed  his  writings  and  conduct  with 
the  highest  affection  of  faith.  The  memorable 
covenant,  which  in  his  youth,  in  the  second  book 
of  the  "  Eeasoii  of  Church  Government,"  he  makes 
with  God  and  his  reader,  expressed  the  faith  of  his 
old  age.  For  the  first  time  since  many  ages,  the  in 
vocations  of  the  Eternal  Spirit  in  the  commence 
ment  of  his  books  are  not  poetic  forms,  but  are 
thoughts,  and  so  are  still  read  with  delight.  His 
views  of  choice  of  profession,  and  choice  in  mar 
riage,  equally  expect  a  divine  leading. 

Thus  chosen,  by  the  felicity  of  his  nature  and  of 
his  breeding,  for  the  clear  perception  of  all  that  is 
graceful  and  all  that  is  great  in  man,  Milton  was 


MILTON.  165 

not  less  happy  in  his  times.  His  birth  fell  upon 
the  agitated  years  when  the  discontents  of  the 
English  Puritans  were  fast  drawing  to  a  head 
against  the  tyranny  of  the  Stuarts.  No  period 
has  surpassed  that  in  the  general  activity  of  mind. 
It  is  said  that  no  opinion,  no  civil,  religious,  moral 
dogma  can  be  produced,  that  was  not  broached  in 
the  fertile  brain  of  that  age.  Questions  that  in 
volve  all  social  and  personal  rights  were  hasting  to 
be  decided  by  the  sword,  and  were  searched  by  eyes 
to  which  the  love  of  freedom,  civil  and  religious, 
lent  new  illumination.  Milton,  gentle,  learned, 
delicately  bred  in  all  the  elegancy  of  art  and  learn 
ing,  was  set  down  in  England  in  the  stern,  almost 
fanatic  society  of  the  Puritans.  The  part  he  took, 
the  zeal  of  his  fellowship,  make  us  acquainted  with 
the  greatness  of  his  spirit  as  in  tranquil  times  we 
could  not  have  known  it.  Susceptible  as  Burke  to 
the  attractions  of  historical  prescription,  of  royalty, 
of  chivalry,  of  an  ancient  church  illustrated  by  old 
martyrdoms  and  installed  in  cathedrals,  —  he  threw 
himself,  the  flower  of  elegancy,  on  the  side  of  the 
reeking  conventicle ;  the  side  of  humanity,  but  un 
learned  and  unadorned.  His  muse  was  brave  and 
humane,  as  well  as  sweet.  He  felt  the  dear  love  of 
native  land  and  native  language.  The  humanity 
which  warms  his  pages  begins  as  it  should,  at  home. 
He  preferred  his  own  English,  so  manlike  he  was, 


166  MILTON. 

to  the  Latin,  which  contained  all  the  treasures  of 
his  memory.  "  My  mother  bore  me,"  he  said,  "  a 
speaker  of  what  God  made  mine  own,  and  not  a 
translator."  He  told  the  Parliament,  that  "the 
imprimaturs  of  Lambeth  House  had  been  writ  in 
Latin ;  for  that  our  English,  the  language  of  men 
ever  famous  and  foremost  in  the  achievements  of 
liberty,  will  not  easily  find  servile  letters  enow  to 
spell  such  a  dictatory  presumption."  At  one  time 
he  meditated  writing  a  poem  on  the  settlement  of 
Britain,  and  a  history  of  England  was  one  of  the 
three  main  tasks  which  he  proposed  to  himself. 
He  proceeded  in  it  no  further  than  to  the  Conquest. 
He  studied  with  care  the  character  of  his  country 
men,  and  once  in  the  "  History,"  and  once  again 
in  the  "  Eeason  of  Church  Government,"  he  has 
recorded  his  judgment  of  the  English  genius. 

Thus  drawn  into  the  great  controversies  of  the 
times,  in  them  he  is  never  lost  in  a  party.  His 
private  opinions  and  private  conscience  always  dis 
tinguish  him.  That  which  drew  him  to  the  party 
was  his  love  of  liberty,  ideal  liberty ;  this  there 
fore  he  could  not  sacrifice  to  any  party.  Toland 
tells  us,  "As  he  looked  upon  true  and  absolute 
freedom  to  be  the  greatest  happiness  of  this  life, 
whether  to  societies  or  single  persons,  so  he  thought 
constraint  of  any  sort  to  be  the  utmost  misery ;  for 
which  reason  he  used  to  tell  those  about  him  the 


MILTON.  167 

entire  satisfaction  of  his  mind,  that  he  had  con 
stantly  employed  his  strength  and  faculties  in  the 
defence  of  liberty,  and  in  direct  opposition  to  slav 
ery.  "  Truly  he  was  an  apostle  of  freedom  ;  of  free 
dom  in  the  house,  in  the  state,  in  the  church  ;  free 
dom  of  speech,  freedom  of  the  press,  yet  in  his  own 
mind  discriminated  from  savage  license,  because 
that  which  he  desired  was  the  liberty  of  the  wise 
man,  containing  itself  in  the  limits  of  virtue.  He 
pushed,  as  far  as  any  in  that  democratic  age,  his 
ideas  of  civil  liberty.  He  proposed  to  establish  a 
republic,  of  which  the  federal  power  was  weak  and 
loosely  defined,  and  the  substantial  power  should 
remain  with  primary  assemblies.  He  maintained, 
that  a  nation  may  try,  judge,  and  slay  their  king, 
if  he  be  a  tyrant.  He  pushed  as  far  his  views  of 
ecclesiastical  liberty.  He  taught  the  doctrine  of 
unlimited  toleration.  One  of  his  tracts  is  writ  to 
prove  that  no  power  on  earth  can  compel  in  mat 
ters  of  religion.  He  maintained  the  doctrine  of 
literary  liberty,  denouncing  the  censorship  of  the 
press,  and  insisting  that  a  book  shall  come  into  the 
world  as  freely  as  a  man,  so  only  it  bear  the  name 
of  author  or  printer,  and  be  responsible  for  itself 
like  a  man.  He  maintained  the  doctrine  of  domes 
tic  liberty,  or  the  liberty  of  divorce,  on  the  ground 
that  unfit  disposition  of  mind  was  a  better  reason 
for  the  act  of  divorce  than  infirmity  of  body,  which 


168  MILTON. 

was  good  ground  in  law.  The  tracts  he  wrote  on 
these  topics  are,  for  the  most  part,  as  fresh  and  per 
tinent  to-day  as  they  were  then.  The  events  which 
produced  them,  the  practical  issues  to  which  they 
tend,  are  mere  occasions  for  this  philanthropist  to 
blow  his  trumpet  for  human  rights.  They  are  all 
varied  applications  of  one  principle,  the  liberty  of 
the  wise  man.  He  sought  absolute  truth,  not  ac 
commodating  truth.  His  opinions  on  all  subjects 
are  formed  for  man  as  he  ought  to  be,  for  a  nation 
of  Miltons.  He  would  be  divorced  when  he  finds 
in  his  consort  unfit  disposition  ;  knowing  that  he 
should  not  abuse  that  liberty,  because  with  his 
whole  heart  he  abhors  licentiousness  and  loves  chas 
tity.  He  defends  the  slaying  of  the  king,  because 
a  king  is  a  king  no  longer  than  he  governs  by  the 
laws ;  "it  would  be  right  to  kill  Philip  of  Spain 
making  an  inroad  into  England,  and  what  right 
the  king  of  Spain  hath  to  govern  us  at  all,  the 
same  hath  the  king  Charles  to  govern  tyrannically." 
He  would  remove  hirelings  out  of  the  church,  and 
support  preachers  by  voluntary  contributions ;  re 
quiring  that  such  only  should  preach  as  have  faith 
enough  to  accept  so  self-denying  and  precarious  a 
mode  of  life,  scorning  to  take  thought  for  the 
aspects  of  prudence  and  expediency.  The  most  de 
vout  man  of  his  time,  he  frequented  no  church ; 
probably  from  a  disgust  at  the  fierce  spirit  of  the 


MILTON.  169 

pulpits.  And  so,  throughout  all  his  actions  and 
opinions,  is  he  a  consistent  spiritualist,  or  believer 
in  the  omnipotence  of  spiritual  laws.  He  wished 
that  his  writings  should  be  communicated  only  to 
those  who  desired  to  see  them.  He  thought  noth 
ing  honest  was  low.  He  thought  he  could  be  fa 
mous  only  in  proportion  as  he  enjoyed  the  appro 
bation  of  the  good.  He  admonished  his  friend 
"not  to  admire  military  prowess,  or  things  in 
which  force  is  of  most  avail.  For  it  would  not  be 
matter  of  rational  wonder,  if  the  wethers  of  our 
country  should  be  born  with  horns  that  could  bat 
ter  down  cities  and  towns.  Learn  to  estimate  great 
characters,  not  by  the  amount  of  animal  strength, 
but  by  the  habitual  justice  and  temperance  of  their 
conduct." 

Was  there  not  a  fitness  in  the  undertaking  of 
such  a  person  to  write  a  poem  on  the  subject  of 
Adam,  the  first  man  ?  By  his  sympathy  with  all 
nature  ;  by  the  proportion  of  his  powers  ;  by  great 
knowledge,  and  by  religion,  he  would  reascend  to 
the  height  from  which  our  nature  is  supposed  to 
have  descended.  From  a  just  knowledge  of  what 
man  should  be,  he  described  what  he  was.  He 
beholds  him  as  he  walked  in  Eden  :  — 

"  His  fair  large  front  and  eye  sublime  declared 
Absolute  rule  ;  and  hyacinthine  locks 
Round  from  his  parted  forelock  manly  hung 
Clustering,  but  not  beneath  his  shoulders  broad." 


170  MILTON. 

And  the  soul  of  this  divine  creature  is  .excellent  as 
his  form.  The  tone  of  his  thought  and  passion  is 
as  healthful,  as  even,  and  as  vigorous,  as  befits  the 
new  and  perfect  model  of  a  race  of  gods. 

The  perception  we  have  attributed  to  Milton,  of 
a  purer  ideal  of  humanity,  modifies  his  poetic  gen 
ius.  The  man  is  paramount  to  the  poet.  His 
fancy  is  never  transcendent,  extravagant ;  but,  as 
Bacon's  imagination  was  said  to  be  "  the  noblest 
that  ever  contented  itself  to  minister  to  the  under 
standing,"  so  Milton's  ministers  to  the  character. 
Milton's  sublimest  song,  bursting  into  heaven  with 
its  peals  of  melodious  thunder,  is  the  voice  of  Mil 
ton  still.  Indeed,  throughout  his  poems,  one  may 
see  under  a  thin  veil,  the  opinions,  the  feelings,  even 
the  incidents  of  the  poet's  life,  still  reappearing. 
The  sonnets  are  all  occasional  poems.  "  L' Allegro" 
and  "  II  Penseroso  "  are  but  a  finer  autobiography 
of  his  youthful  fancies  at  Harefield  ;  the  "  Comus  " 
a  transcript,  in  charming  numbers,  of  that  philoso 
phy  of  chastity,  which,  in  the  "  Apology  for  Smec- 
tymnuus,"  and  in  the  "Reason  of  Church  Govern 
ment,"  he  declares  to  be  his  defense  and  religion. 
The  "  Samson  Agonistes  "  is  too  broad  an  expres 
sion  of  his  private  griefs  to  be  mistaken,  and  is  a 
version  of  the  "  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce." 
The  most  affecting  passages  in  "  Paradise  Lost " 
are  personal  allusions  ;  and,  when  we  are  fairly  in 


MILTON.  171 

Eden,  Adam  and  Milton  are  often  difficult  to  be 
separated.  Again,  in  "Paradise  Kegained,"  we 
have  the  most  distinct  marks  of  the  progress  of 
the  poet's  mind,  in  the  revision  and  enlargement  of 
his  religious  opinions.  This  may  be  thought  to 
abridge  his  praise  as  a  poet.  It  is  true  of  Homer  and 
Shakspeare  that  they  do  not  appear  in  their  poems ; 
that  those  prodigious  geniuses  did  cast  themselves 
so  totally  into  their  song,  that  their  individuality 
vanishes,  and  the  poet  towers  to  the  sky,  whilst  the 
man  quite  disappears.  The  fact  is  memorable. 
Shall  we  say  that  in  our  admiration  and  joy  in  these 
wonderful  poems  we  have  even  a  feeling  of  regret 
that  the  men  knew  not  what  they  did ;  that  they 
were  too  passive  in  their  great  service  ;  were  chan 
nels  through  which  streams  of  thought  flowed  from 
a  higher  source,  which  they  did  not  appropriate,  did 
not  blend  with  their  own  being  ?  Like  prophets, 
they  seem  but  imperfectly  aware  of  the  import  of 
their  own  utterances.  We  hesitate  to  say  such 
things,  and  say  them  only  to  the  unpleasing  dualism, 
when  the  man  and  the  poet  show  like  a  double  con 
sciousness.  Perhaps  we  speak  to  no  fact,  but  to 
mere  fables,  of  an  idle  mendicant  Homer,  and  of  a 
Shakspeare  content  with  a  mean  and  jocular  way 
of  life.  Be  it  how  it  may,  the  genius  and  office  of 
Milton  were  different,  namely,  to  ascend  by  the  aids 
of  his  learning  and  his  religion,  —  by  an  equal  per- 


172  MILTON. 

ception,  that  is,  of  the  past  and  the  future,  —  to  a 
higher  insight  and  more  lively  delineation  of  the 
heroic  life  of  man.  This  was  his  poem ;  whereof  all 
his  indignant  pamphlets  and  all  his  soaring  verses 
are  only  single  cantos  or  detached  stanzas.  It  was 
plainly  needful  that  his  poetry  should  be  a  version 
of  his  own  life,  in  order  to  give  weight  and  solem 
nity  to  his  thoughts  ;  by  which  they  might  penetrate 
and  possess  the  imagination  and  the  will  of  man 
kind.  The  creations  of  Shakspeare  are  cast  into 
the  world  of  thought  to  no  further  end  than  to  de 
light.  Their  intrinsic  beauty  is  their  excuse  for 
being.  Milton,  fired  "  with  dearest  charity  to  in 
fuse  the  knowledge  of  good  things  into  others," 
tasked  his  giant  imagination  and  exhausted  the 
stores  of  his  intellect  for  an  end  beyond,  namely, 
to  teach.  His  own  conviction  it  is  which  gives  such 
authority  to  his  strain.  Its  reality  is  its  force.  If 
out  of  the  heart  it  came,  to  the  heart  it  must  go. 
What  schools  and  epochs  of  common  rhymers  would 
it  need  to  make  a  counterbalance  to  the  severe  or 
acles  of  his  muse : 

"In  them  is  plainest  taught  and  easiest  learnt, 
What  makes  a  nation  happy,  and  keeps  it  so." 

The  lover  of  Milton  reads  one  sense  in  his  prose 
and  in  his  metrical  compositions  ;  and  sometimes 
the  muse  soars  highest  in  the  former,  because  the 
thought  is  more  sincere.  Of  his  prose  in  general, 


MILTON.  173 

not  the  style  alone  but  the  argument  also  is  poetic ; 
according  to  Lord  Bacon's  definition  of  poetry,  fol 
lowing  that  of  Aristotle,  "  Poetry,  not  finding  the 
actual  world  exactly  conformed  to  its  idea  of  good 
and  fair,  seeks  to  accommodate  the  shows  of  things 
to  the  desires  of  the  mind,  and  to  create  an  ideal 
world  better  than  the  world  of  experience."  Such 
certainly  is  the  explanation  of  Milton's  tracts. 
Such  is  the  apology  to  be  entered  for  the  plea  for 
freedom  of  divorce  ;  an  essay,  which,  from  the  first 
until  now,  has  brought  a  degree  of  obloquy  on  his 
name.  It  was  a  sally  of  the  extravagant  spirit  of 
the  time,  overjoyed,  as  in  the  French  Eevolution, 
with  the  sudden  victories  it  had  gained,  and  eager 
to  carry  on  the  standard  of  truth  to  new  heights. 
It  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  poem  on  one  of  the  griefs 
of  man's  condition,  namely,  unfit  marriage.  And 
as  many  poems  have  been  written  upon  unfit  society, 
commending  solitude,  yet  have  not  been  proceeded 
against,  though  their  end  was  hostile  to  the  state  ; 
so  should  this  receive  that  charity  which  an  angelic 
soul,  suffering  more  keenly  than  others  from  the 
unavoidable  evils  of  human  life,  is  entitled  to. 

We  have  offered  no  apology  for  expanding  to 
such  length  our  commentary  on  the  character  of 
John  Milton ;  who,  in  old  age,  in  solitude,  in  neg 
lect,  and  blind,  wrote  the  Paradise  Lost ;  a  man 
whom  labor  or  danger  never  deterred  from  what- 


174  MILTON. 

ever  efforts  a  love  of  the  supreme  interests  of 
man  prompted.  For  are  we  not  the  better ;  are 
not  all  men  fortified  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
bravery,  the  purity,  the  temperance,  the  toil,  the  in 
dependence  and  the  angelic  devotion  of  this  man, 
who,  in  a  revolutionary  age,  taking  counsel  only 
of  himself,  endeavored,  in  his  writings  and  in  his 
life,  to  carry  out  the  life  of  man  to  new  heights  of 
spiritual  grace  and  dignity,  without  any  abatement 
of  its  strength  ? 


PAPERS   FROM  THE   DIAL. 


THE  tongue  is  prone  to  lose  the  way ; 

Not  so  the  pen,  for  in  a  letter 
We  have  not  better  things  to  say, 

But  surely  say  them  better. 


PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

— « — 
I. 

THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.* 

IN  our  fidelity  to  the  higher  truth  we  need  not 
disown  our  debt,  in  our  actual  state  of  culture,  in 
the  twilights  of  experience,  to  these  rude  helpers. 
They  keep  alive  the  memory  and  the  hope  of  a 
better  day.  When  we  flout  all  particular  books  as 
initial  merely,  we  truly  express  the  privilege  of 
spiritual  nature,  but  alas,  not  the  fact  and  fortune 
of  this  low  Massachusetts  and  Boston,  of  these 
humble  Junes  and  Decembers  of  mortal  life.  Our 
souls  are  not  self -fed,  but  do  eat  and  drink  of  chem 
ical  water  and  wheat.  Let  us  not  forget  the  genial 
miraculous  force  we  have  known  to  proceed  from 
a  book.  We  go  musing  into  the  vault  of  day  and 
night;  no  constellation  shines,  no  muse  descends, 
the  stars  are  white  points,  the  roses,  brick-colored 
leaves,  and  frogs  pipe,  mice  cheep,  and  wagons 
creak  along  the  road.  We  return  to  the  house 
and  take  up  Plutarch  or  Augustine,  and  read  a 
few  sentences  or  pages,  and  lo !  the  air  swims  with 
1  The  Dial,  vol.  i.  p.  137. 


178  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

life,  secrets  of  magnanimity  and  grandeur  invite  us 
on  every  hand,  life  is  made  up  of  them.  Such  is 
our  debt  to  a  book.  Observe  moreover  that  we 
ought  to  credit  literature  with  much  more  than  the 
bare  word  it  gives  us.  I  have  just  been  reading 
poems  which  now  in  memory  shine  with  a  certain 
steady,  warm,  autumnal  light.  That  is  not  in  their 
grammatical  construction  which  they  give  me.  If 
I  analyze  the  sentences  it  eludes  me,  but  is  the 
genius  and  suggestion  of  the  whole.  Over  every 
true  poem  lingers  a  certain  wild  beauty,  immeasur 
able  ;  a  happiness  lightsome  and  delicious  fills  the 
heart  and  brain,  as  they  say  every  man  walks  envir 
oned  by  his  proper  atmosphere,  extending  to  some 
distance  around  him.  This  beautiful  result  must 
be  credited  to  literature  also  in  casting  its  account. 
In  looking  at  the  library  of  the  Present  Age,  we 
are  first  struck  with  the  fact  of  the  immense  mis 
cellany.  It  can  hardly  be  characterized  by  any 
species  of  book,  for  every  opinion,  old  and  new, 
every  hope  and  fear,  every  whim  and  folly  has  an 
organ.  It  exhibits  a  vast  carcass  of  tradition  every 
year  with  as  much  solemnity  as  a  new  revelation. 
Along  with  these  it  vents  books  that  breathe  of 
new  morning,  that  seem  to  heave  with  the  life  of 
millions,  books  for  which  men  and  women  peak 
and  pine ;  books  which  take  the  rose  out  of  the 
cheek  of  him  that  wrote  them,  and  give  him  to  the 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    179 

midnight  a  sad,  solitary,  diseased  man;  which 
leave  no  man  where  they  found  him,  but  make  him 
better  or  worse  ;  and  which  work  dubiously  on  so 
ciety  and  seem  to  inoculate  it  with  a  venom  before 
any  healthy  result  appears. 

In  order  to  any  complete  view  of  the  literature 
of  the  present  age,  an  inquiry  should  include  what 
it  quotes,  what  it  writes  and  what  it  wishes  to  write. 
In  our  present  attempt  to  enumerate  some  traits  of 
the  recent  literature,  we  shall  have  somewhat  to 
offer  on  each  of  these  topics,  but  we  cannot  prom 
ise  to  set  in  very  exact  order  what  we  have  to  say. 

In  the  first  place  it  has  all  books.  It  reprints 
the  wisdom  of  the  world.  How  can  the  age  be  a 
bad  one  which  gives  me  Plato  and  Paul  and 
Plutarch,  St.  Augustine,  Spinoza,  Chapman,  Beau 
mont  and  Fletcher,  Donne  and  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  beside  its  own  riches  ?  Our  presses  groan 
every  year  with  new  editions  of  all  the  select  pieces 
of  the  first  of  mankind,  —  meditations,  history, 
classifications,  opinions,  epics,  lyrics,  which  the  age 
adopts  by  quoting  them.  If  we  should  designate 
favorite  studies  in  which  the  age  delights  more 
than  in  the  rest  of  this  great  mass  of  the  permanent 
literature  of  the  human  race,  one  or  two  instances 
would  be  conspicuous.  First  ;  the  prodigious 
growth  and  influence  of  the  genius  of  Shakspeare, 
in  the  last  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  is  itself  a 


180  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

fact  of  the  first  importance.  It  almost  alone  has 
called  out  the  genius  of  the  German  nation  into  an 
activity  which  spreading  from  the  poetic  into  the 
scientific,  religious  and  philosophical  domains,  has 
made  theirs  now  at  last  the  paramount  intellectual 
influence  of  the  world,  reacting  with  great  energy 
on  England  and  America.  And  thus,  and  not  by 
mechanical  diffusion,  does  an  original  genius  work 
and  spread  himself. 

The  poetry  and  speculation  of  the  age  are 
marked  by  a  certain  philosophic  turn,  which  dis 
criminates  them  from  the  works  of  earlier  times. 
The  poet  is  not  content  to  see  how  "  Fair  hangs  the 
apple  from  the  rock,"  "  What  music  a  sunbeam 
awoke  in  the  groves,"  nor  of  Hardiknute,  how 
"  Stately  steppes  he  east  the  way,  and  stately 
steppes  he  west,"  but  he  now  revolves,  What  is 
the  apple  to  me  ?  and  what  the  birds  to  me  ?  and 
what  is  Hardiknute  to  me  ?  and  what  am  I  ? 
And  this  is  called  subjectiveness,  as  the  eye  is  with 
drawn  from  the  object  and  fixed  on  the  subject  or 
mind. 

We  can  easily  concede  that  a  steadfast  tendency 
of  this  sort  appears  in  modern  literature.  It  is 
the  new  consciousness  of  the  one  mind,  which  pre 
dominates  in  criticism.  It  is  the  uprise  of  the  soul, 
and  not  the  decline.  It  is  founded  on  that  insati 
able  demand  for  unity,  the  need  to  recognize  one 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.     181 

nature  in  all  the  variety  of  objects,  which  always 
characterizes  a  genius  of  the  first  order.  Accus 
tomed  always  to  behold  the  presence  of  the  universe 
in  every  part,  the  soul  will  not  condescend  to  look 
at  any  new  part  as  a  stranger,  but  saith,  —  "I 
know  all  already,  and  what  art  thou?  Show  me 
thy  relations  to  me,  to  all,  and  I  will  entertain  thee 
also." 

There  is  a  pernicious  ambiguity  in  the  use  of  the 
term  subjective.  We  say,  in  accordance  with  the 
general  view  I  have  stated,  that  the  single  soul 
feels  its  right  to  be  no  longer  confounded  with 
numbers,  but  itself  to  sit  in  judgment  on  history 
and  literature,  and  to  summon  all  facts  and  parties 
before  its  tribunal.  And  in  this  sense  the  age  is 
subjective. 

But,  in  all  ages,  and  now  more,  the  narrow-minded 
have  no  interest  in  anything  but  in  its  relation  to 
their  personality.  What  will  help  them  to  be  de 
livered  from  some  burden,  eased  in  some  circum 
stance,  flattered  or  pardoned  or  enriched ;  what  will 
help  to  marry  or  to  divorce  them,  to  prolong  or  to 
sweeten  life,  is  sure  of  their  interest ;  and  nothing 
else.  Every  form  under  the  whole  heaven  they  be 
hold  in  this  most  partial  light  or  darkness  of  in 
tense  selfishness,  until  we  hate  their  being.  And 
this  habit  of  intellectual  selfishness  has  acquired  in 
our  day  the  fine  name  of  subjectiveness. 


182  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

Nor  is  the  distinction  between  these  two  habits 
to  be  found  in  the  circumstance  of  using  the  first 
person  singular,  or  reciting  facts  and  feelings  of 
personal  history.  A  man  may  say  I,  and  never 
refer  to  himself  as  an  individual ;  and  a  man  may 
recite  passages  of  his  life  with  no  feeling  of  ego 
tism.  Nor  need  a  man  have  a  vicious  subjective- 
ness  because  he  deals  in  abstract  propositions. 

But  the  criterion  which  discriminates  these  two 
habits  in  the  poet's  mind  is  the  tendency  of  his 
composition  ;  namely,  whether  it  leads  us  to  na 
ture,  or  to  the  person  of  the  writer.  The  great  al 
ways  introduce  us  to  facts ;  small  men  introduce  us 
always  to  themselves.  The  great  man,  even  whilst 
he  relates  a  private  fact  personal  to  him,  is  really 
leading  us  away  from  him  to  an  universal  experi 
ence.  His  own  affection  is  in  nature,  in  what  is, 
and,  of  course,  all  his  communication  leads  out 
ward  to  it,  starting  from  whatsoever  point.  The 
great  never  with  their  own  consent  become  a  load 
on  the  minds  they  instruct.  The  more  they  draw 
us  to  them,  the  farther  from  them  or  more  inde 
pendent  of  them  we  are,  because  they  have  brought 
us  to  the  knowledge  of  somewhat  deeper  than  both 
them  and  us.  The  great  never  hinder  us ;  for 
their  activity  is  coincident  with  the  sun  and  moon, 
with  the  course  of  the  rivers  and  of  the  winds,  with 
the  stream  of  laborers  in  the  street  and  with  all 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.     183 

the  activity  and  well-being  of  the  race.  The  great 
lead  us  to  nature,  and  in  our  age  to  metaphysical 
nature,  to  the  invisible  awful  facts,  to  moral  ab 
stractions,  which  are  not  less  nature  than  is  a  river 
or  a  coal-mine,  —  nay,  they  are  far  more  nature,  — 
but  its  essence  and  soul. 

But  the  weak  and  wicked,  led  also  to  analyze, 
saw  nothing  in  thought  but  luxury.  Thought  for 
the  selfish  became  selfish.  They  invited  us  to  con 
template  nature,  and  showed  us  an  abominable  self. 
Would  you  know  the  genius  of  the  writer  ?  Do 
riot  enumerate  his  talents  or  his  feats,  but  ask  thy 
self,  What  spirit  is  he  of  ?  Do  gladness  and  hope 
and  fortitude  flow  from  his  page  into  thy  heart? 
Has  he  led  thee  to  nature  because  his  own  soul  was 
too  happy  in  beholding  her  power  and  love  ?  Or  is 
his  passion  for  the  wilderness  only  the  sensibility 
of  the  sick,  the  exhibition  of  a  talent  which  only 
shines  whilst  you  praise  it ;  which  has  no  root  in 
the  character,  and  can  thus  minister  to  the  vanity 
but  not  to  the  happiness  of  the  possessor  ;  and 
which  derives  all  its  eclat  from  our  conventional 
education,  but  would  not  make  itself  intelligible  to 
the  wise  man  of  another  age  or  country?  The 
water  we  wash  with  never  speaks  of  itself,  nor  does 
fire  or  wind  or  tree.  Neither  does  the  noble  nat 
ural  man :  he  yields  himself  to  your  occasion  and 
use,  but  his  act  expresses  a  reference  to  universal 
good. 


184  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

Another  element  of  the  modern  poetry  akin  to 
this  subjective  tendency,  or  rather  the  direction  of 
that  same  on  the  question  of  resources,  is  the  Feel 
ing  of  the  Infinite.  Of  the  perception  now  fast  be 
coming  a  conscious  fact,  —  that  there  is  One  Mind, 
and  that  all  the  powers  and  privileges  which  lie  in 
any,  lie  in  all ;  that  I  as  a  man  may  claim  and  ap 
propriate  whatever  of  true  or  fair  or  good  or  strong 
has  anywhere  been  exhibited ;  that  Moses  and  Con 
fucius,  Montaigne  and  Leibnitz  are  not  so  much  in 
dividuals  as  they  are  parts  of  man  and  parts  of  me, 
and  my  intelligence  proves  them  my  own,  —  litera 
ture  is  far  the  best  expression.  It  is  true,  this  is 
not  the  only  nor  the  obvious  lesson  it  teaches.  A 
selfish  commerce  and  government  have  caught  the 
eye  and  usurped  the  hand  of  the  masses.  It  is  not 
to  be  contested  that  selfishness  and  the  senses  write 
the  laws  under  which  we  live,  and  that  the  street 
seems  to  be  built  and  the  men  and  women  in  it 
moving,  not  in  reference  to  pure  and  grand  ends, 
but  rather  to  very  short  and  sordid  ones.  Perhaps 
no  considerable  minority,  no  one  man,  leads  a  quite 
clean  and  lofty  life.  What  then  ?  We  concede  in 
sadness  the  fact.  But  we  say  that  these  low  cus 
tomary  ways  are  not  all  that  survives  in  human 
beings.  There  is  that  in  us  which  mutters,  and 
that  which  groans,  and  that  which  triumphs,  and 
that  which  aspires.  There  are  facts  on  which  men 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN* LITERATURE.    185 

of  the  world  superciliously  smile,  which  are  worth 
all  their  trade  and  politics ;  which  drive  young 
men  into  gardens  and  solitary  places,  and  cause  ex 
travagant  gestures,  starts,  distortions  of  the  coun 
tenance,  and  passionate  exclamations ;  sentiments, 
which  find  no  aliment  or  language  for  themselves 
on  the  wharves,  in  court,  or  market,  but  which  are 
soothed  by  silence,  by  darkness,  by  the  pale  stars, 
and  the  presence  of  nature.  All  over  the  modern 
world  the  educated  and  susceptible  have  betrayed 
their  discontent  with  the  limits  of  our  municipal 
life,  and  with  the  poverty  of  our  dogmas  of  religion 
and  philosophy.  They  betray  this  impatience  by 
fleeing  for  resource  to  a  conversation  with  nature, 
which  is  courted  in  a  certain  moody  and  explor 
ing  spirit,  as  if  they  anticipated  a  more  intimate 
union  of  man  with  the  world  than  has  been  known 
in  recent  ages.  Those  who  cannot  tell  what  they 
desire  or  expect,  still  sigh  and  struggle  with  indefi 
nite  thoughts  and  vast  wishes.  The  very  child  in 
the  nursery  prattles  mysticism,  and  doubts  and 
philosophizes.  A  wild  striving  to  express  a  more 
inward  and  infinite  sense  characterizes  the  works 
of  every  art.  The  music  of  Beethoven  is  said,  by 
those  who  understand  it,  to  labor  with  vaster  con 
ceptions  and  aspirations  than  music  has  attempted 
before.  This  feeling  of  the  Infinite  has  deeply  col 
ored  the  poetry  of  the  period.  This  new  love  of 


186  PAPERS'  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

the  vast,  always  native  in  Germany,  was  imported 
into  France  by  De  Stael,  appeared  in  England  in 
Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  Byron,  Shelley,  Felicia 
Hemans,  and  finds  a  most  genial  climate  in  the 
American  mind.  Scott  and  Crabbe,  who  formed 
themselves  on  the  past,  had  none  of  this  tendency ; 
their  poetry  is  objective.  In  Byron,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  predominates ;  but  in  Byron  it  is  blind,  it 
sees  not  its  true  end  —  an  infinite  good,  alive  and 
beautiful,  a  life  nourished  on  absolute  beatitudes, 
descending  into  nature  to  behold  itself  reflected 
there.  His  will  is  perverted,  he  worships  the  acci 
dents  of  society,  and  his  praise  of  nature  is  thiev 
ing  and  selfish. 

Nothing  certifies  the  prevalence  of  this  taste  in 
the  people  more  than  the  circulation  of  the  poems, 
—  one  would  say  most  incongruously  united  by 
some  bookseller,  —  of  Coleridge,  Shelley  and  Keats. 
The  only  unity  is  in  the  subjectiveness  and  the  as 
piration  common  to  the  three  writers.  Shelley, 
though  a  poetic  mind,  is  never  a  poet.  His  muse 
is  uniformly  imitative ;  all  his  poems  composite. 
A  good  English  scholar  he  is,  with  ear,  taste,  and 
memory ;  much  more,  he  is  a  character  full  of  noble 
and  prophetic  traits ;  but  imagination,  the  original, 
authentic  fire  of  the  bard,  he  has  not.  He  is 
clearly  modern,  and  shares  with  Richter,  Chateau 
briand,  Manzoni  and  Wordsworth,  the  feeling  of 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    187 

the  infinite,  which  so  labors  for  expression  in  their 
different  genius.  But  all  his  lines  are  arbitrary, 
not  necessary.  When  we  read  poetry,  the  mind 
asks,  —  Was  this  verse  one  of  twenty  which  the  au 
thor  might  have  written  as  well ;  or  is  this  what 
that  man  was  created  to  say  ?  But,  whilst  every 
line  of  the  true  poet  will  be  genuine,  he  is  in  a 
boundless  power  and  freedom  to  say  a  million 
things.  And  the  reason  why  he  can  say  one  thing 
well,  is  because  his  vision  extends  to  the  sight  of 
all  things,  and  so  he  describes  each  as  one  who 
knows  many  and  all. 

The  fame  of  Wordsworth  is  a  leading  fact  in 
modern  literature,  when  it  is  considered  how  hos 
tile  his  genius  at  first  seemed  to  the  reigning  taste, 
and  with  what  limited  poetic  talents  his  great  and 
steadily  growing  dominion  has  been  established. 
More  than  any  poet  his  success  has  been  not  his 
own  but  that  of  the  idea  which  he  shared  with  his 
coevals,  and  which  he  has  rarely  succeeded  in  ade 
quately  expressing.  The  Excursion  awakened  in 
every  lover  of  Nature  the  right  feeling.  We  saw 
stars  shine,  we  felt  the  awe  of  mountains,  we  heard 
the  rustle  of  the  wind  in  the  grass,  and  knew  again 
the  ineffable  secret  of  solitude.  It  was  a  great  joy. 
It  was  nearer  to  Nature  than  anything  we  had  be 
fore.  But  the  interest  of  the  poem  ended  almost 
with  the  narrative  of  the  influences  of  Nature  on 


188  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

the  mind  of  the  Boy,  in  the  First  Book.  Obviously 
for  that  passage  the  poem  was  written,  and  with  the 
exception  of  this  and  of  a  few  strains  of  the  like 
character  in  the  sequel,  the  whole  poem  was  dull. 
Here  was  no  poem,  but  here  was  poetry,  and  a  sure 
index  where  the  subtle  muse  was  about  to  pitch  her 
tent  and  find  the  argument  of  her  song.  It  was 
the  human  soul  in  these  last  ages  striving  for  a 
just  publication  of  itself.  Add  to  this,  however, 
the  great  praise  of  Wordsworth,  that  more  than 
any  other  contemporary  bard  he  is  pervaded  with 
a  reverence  of  somewhat  higher  than  (conscious) 
thought.  There  is  in  him  that  property  common 
to  all  great  poets,  a  wisdom  of  humanity,  which  is 
superior  to  any  talents  which  they  exert.  It  is  the 
wisest  part  of  Shakspeare  and  of  Milton.  For  they 
are  poets  by  the  free  course  which  they  allow  to 
the  informing  soul,  which  through  their  eyes  be- 
holdeth  again  and  blesseth  the  things  which  it  hath 
made.  The  soul  is  superior  to  its  knowledge,  wiser 
than  any  of  its  works. 

With  the  name  of  Wordsworth  rises  to  our  re 
collection  the  name  of  his  contemporary  and  friend, 
Walter  Savage  Landor  —  a  man  working  in  a  very 
different  and  peculiar  spirit,  yet  one  whose  genius 
and  accomplishments  deserve  a  wiser  criticism  than 
we  have  yet  seen  applied  to  them,  and  the  rather 
that  his  name  does  not  readily  associate  itself  with 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    189 

any  school  of  writers.  Of  Thomas  Carlyle,  also,  we 
shall  say  nothing  at  this  time,  since  the  quality  and 
energy  of  his  influence  on  the  youth  of  this  country 
will  require  at  our  hands,  erelong,  a  distinct  and 
faithful  acknowledgment. 

But  of  all  men  he  who  has  united  in  himself,  and 
that  in  the  most  extraordinary  degree,  the  tenden 
cies  of  the  era,  is  the  German  poet,  naturalist  and 
philosopher,  Goethe.  Whatever  the  age  inherited 
or  invented,  he  made  his  own.  He  has  owed  to 
Commerce  and  to  the  victories  of  the  Understand 
ing,  all  their  spoils.  Such  was  his  capacity,  that  the 
magazines  of  the  world's  ancient  or  modern  wealth, 
which  arts  and  intercourse  and  skepticism  could 
command,  —  he  wanted  them  all.  Had  there  been 
twice  so  much,  he  could  have  used  it  as  well.  Ge 
ologist,  mechanic,  merchant,  chemist,  king,  radical, 
painter,  composer,  —  all  worked  for  him,  and  a 
thousand  men  seemed  to  look  through  his  eyes.  He 
learned  as  readily  as  other  men  breathe.  Of  all 
the  men  of  this  time,  not  one  has  seemed  so  much 
at  home  in  it  as  he.  He  was  not  afraid  to  live. 
And  in  him  this  encyclopedia  of  facts,  which  it  has 
been  the  boast  of  the  age  to  compile,  wrought  an 
equal  effect.  He  was  knowing  ;  he  was  brave  ;  he 
was  clean  from  all  narrowness ;  he  has  a  perfect  pro 
priety  and  taste,  —  a  quality  by  no  means  common 
to  the  German  writers.  Nay,  since  the  earth  as  we 


190  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

said  had  become  a  reading-room,  the  new  opportu 
nities  seem  to  have  aided  him  to  be  that  resolute 
realist  he  is,  and  seconded  his  sturdy  determination 
to  see  things  for  what  they  are.  To  look  at  him 
one  would  say  there  was  never  an  observer  before. 
What  sagacity,  what  industry  of  observation.  To 
read  his  record  is  a  frugality  of  time,  for  you  shall 
find  no  word  that  does  not  stand  for  a  thing,  and 
he  is  of  that  comprehension  which  can  see  the  value 
of  truth.  His  love  of  Nature  has  seemed  to  give  a 
new  meaning  to  that  word.  There  was  never  man 
more  domesticated  in  this  world  than  he.  And  he 
is  an  apology  for  the  analytic  spirit  of  the  period, 
because,  of  his  analysis,  always  wholes  were  the  re 
sult.  All  conventions,  all  traditions  he  rejected. 
And  yet  he  felt  his  entire  right  and  duty  to  stand 
before  and  try  and  judge  every  fact  in  nature.  He 
thought  it  necessary  to  dot  round  with  his  own  pen 
the  entire  sphere  of  knowables  ;  and  for  many  of 
his  stories,  this  seems  the  only  reason :  Here  is  a 
piece  of  humanity  I  had  hitherto  omitted  to 
sketch  ;  —  take  this.  He  does  not  say  so  in  sylla 
bles,  —  yet  a  sort  of  conscientious  feeling  he  had  to 
be  up  to  the  universe,  is  the  best  account  and  apol 
ogy  for  many  of  them.  He  shared  also  the  subjec- 
tiveness  of  the  age,  and  that  too  in  both  the  senses 
I  have  discriminated.  With  the  sharpest  eye  for 
form,  color,  botany,  engraving,  medals,  persons  and 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    191 

manners,  he  never  stopped  at  surface,  but  pierced 
the  purpose  of  a  thing  and  studied  to  reconcile  that 
purpose  with  his  own  being.  What  he  could  so 
reconcile  was  good ;  what  he  could  not,  was  false. 
Hence  a  certain  greatness  encircles  every  fact  he 
treats ;  for  to  him  it  has  a  soul,  an  eternal  reason 
why  it  was  so,  and  not  otherwise.  This  is  the  se 
cret  of  that  deep  realism,  which  went  about  among 
all  objects  he  beheld,  to  find  the  cause  why  they 
must  be  what  they  are.  It  was  with  him  a  favorite 
task  to  find  a  theory  of  every  institution,  custom, 
art,  work  of  art,  which  he  observed.  Witness  his 
explanation  of  the  Italian  mode  of  reckoning  the 
hours  of  the  day,  as  growing  out  of  the  Italian  cli 
mate  ;  of  the  obelisk  of  Egypt,  as  growing  out  of  a 
common  natural  fracture  in  the  granite  parallele 
piped  in  Upper  Egypt ;  of  the  Doric  architecture, 
and  the  Gothic  ;  of  the  Venetian  music  of  the  gon 
dolier,  originating  in  the  habit  of  the  fishers'  wives 
of  the  Lido  singing  on  shore  to  their  husbands 
on  the  sea ;  of  the  amphitheatre,  which  is  the  en 
closure  of  the  natural  cup  of  heads  that  arranges 
itself  round  every  spectacle  in  the  street ;  of  the 
coloring  of  Titian  and  Paul  Veronese,  which  one 
may  verify  in  common  daylight  in  Venice  every  af 
ternoon  ;  of  the  Carnival  at  Rome  ;  of  the  domestic 
rural  architecture  in  Italy  ;  and  many  the  like  ex 
amples. 


192  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

But  also  that  other  vicious  subjectiveness,  that 
vice  of  the  time,  infected  him  also.  We  are  pro 
voked  with  his  Olympian  self-complacency,  the  pat 
ronizing  air  with  which  he  vouchsafes  to  tolerate 
the  genius  and  performances  of  other  mortals,  "  the 
good  Hiller,"  "  our  excellent  Kant,"  "  the  friendly 
Wieland,"  &c.  &c.  There  is  a  good  letter  from 
Wieland  to  Merck,  in  which  Wieland  relates  that 
Goethe  read  to  a  select  party  his  journal  of  a  tour 
in  Switzerland  with  the  Grand  Duke,  and  their  pas 
sage  through  the  Yallais  and  over  the  St.  Gothard. 
"  It  was,  "  says  Wieland,  "  as  good  as  Xenophon's 
Anabasis.  The  piece  is  one  of  his  most  masterly 
productions,  and  is  thought  and  written  with  the 
greatness  peculiar  to  him.  The  fair  hearers  were 
enthusiastic  at  the  nature  in  this  piece  ;  I  liked  the 
sly  art  in  the  composition,  whereof  they  saw  noth 
ing,  still  better.  It  is  a  true  poem,  so  concealed  is 
the  art  too.  But  what  most  remarkably  in  this,  as  in 
all  his  other  works,  distinguishes  him  from  Homer 
and  Shakspeare,  is,  that  the  Me,  the  Ille  ego, 
everywhere  glimmers  through,  although  without  any 
boasting  and  with  an  infinite  fineness."  This  subtle 
element  of  egotism  in  Goethe  certainly  does  not 
seem  to  deform  his  compositions,  but  to  lower  the 
moral  influence  of  the  man.  He  differs  from  all  the 
great  in  the  total  want  of  frankness.  Who  saw  Mil 
ton,  who  saw  Shakspeare,  saw  them  do  their  best, 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    193 

and  utter  their  whole  heart  manlike  among  their 
brethren.  No  man  was  permitted  to  call  Goethe 
brother.  He  hid  himself,  and  worked  always  to 
astonish,  which  is  egotism,  and  therefore  little. 

If  we  try  Goethe  by  the  ordinary  canons  of  criti 
cism,  we  should  say  that  his  thinking  is  of  great 
altitude,  and  all  level ;  not  a  succession  of  summits, 
but  a  high  Asiatic  table -land.  Dramatic  power, 
the  rarest  talent  in  literature,  he  has  very  little. 
He  has  an  eye  constant  to  the  fact  of  life  and  that 
never  pauses  in  its  advance.  But  the  great  felici 
ties,  the  miracles  of  poetry,  he  has  never.  It  is 
all  design  with  him,  just  thought  and  instructed 
expression,  analogies,  allusion,  illustration,  which 
knowledge  and  correct  thinking  supply  ;  but  of 
Shakspeare  and  the  transcendent  muse,  no  syllable. 
Yet  in  the  court  and  law  to  which  we  ordinarily 
speak,  and  without  adverting  to  absolute  standards, 
we  claim  for  him  the  praise  of  truth,  of  fidelity  to 
his  intellectual  nature.  He  is  the  king  of  all  schol 
ars.  In  these  days  and  in  this  country,  where  the 
scholars  are  few  and  idle,  where  men  read  easy 
books  and  sleep  after  dinner,  it  seems  as  if  no  book 
could  so  safely  be  put  in  the  hands  of  young  men 
as  the  letters  of  Goethe,  which  attest  the  incessant 
activity  of  this  man,  to  eighty  years,  in  an  endless 
variety  of  studies,  with  uniform  cheerfulness  and 
greatness  of  mind.  They  cannot  be  read  without 


194  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

shaming  us  into  an  emulating  industry.  Let  him 
have  the  praise  of  the  love  of  truth.  We  think, 
when  we  contemplate  the  stupendous  glory  of 
the  world,  that  it  were  life  enough  for  one  man 
merely  to  lift  his  hands  and  cry  with  St.  Augus 
tine,  "  Wrangle  who  pleases,  I  will  wonder."  Well, 
this  he  did.  Here  was  a  man  who,  in  the  feeling 
that  the  thing  itself  was  so  admirable  as  to  leave 
all  comment  behind,  went  up  and  down,  from  ob 
ject  to  object,  lifting  the  veil  from  every  one,  and 
did  no  more.  What  he  said  of  Lavater,  may  true- 
lier  be  said  of  him,  that  "  it  was  fearful  to  stand  in 
the  presence  of  one  before  whom  all  the  boundaries 
within  which  Nature  has  circumscribed  our  being 
were  laid  flat."  His  are  the  bright  and  terrible 
eyes  which  meet  the  modern  student  in  every 
sacred  chapel  of  thought,  in  every  public  enclosure. 
But  now,  that  we  may  not  seem  to  dodge  the 
question  which  all  men  ask,  nor  pay  a  great  man 
so  ill  a  compliment  as  to  praise  him  only  in  the 
conventional  and  comparative  speech,  let  us  hon 
estly  record  our  thought  upon  the  total  worth  and 
influence  of  this  genius.  Does  he  represent,  not 
only  the  achievement  of  that  age  in  which  he  lived, 
but  that  which  it  would  be  and  is  now  becoming  ? 
And  what  shall  we  think  of  that  absence  of  the 
moral  sentiment,  that  singular  equivalence  to  him 
of  good  and  evil  in  action,  which  discredit  his  com- 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    195 

positions  to  the  pure  ?  The  spirit  of  his  biography, 
of  his  poems,  of  his  tales,  is  identical,  and  we  may 
here  set  down  by  way  of  comment  on  his  genins  the 
impressions  recently  awakened  in  us  by  the  story 
of  Wilhelm  Meister. 

All  great  men  have  written  proudly,  nor  cared 
to  explain.  They  knew  that  the  intelligent  reader 
would  come  at  last,  and  would  thank  them.  So 
did  Dante,  so  did  Machiavel.  Goethe  has  done 
this  in  Meister.  We  can  fancy  him  saying  to  him 
self  :  —  There  are  poets  enough  of  the  Ideal ;  let 
me  paint  the  Actual,  as,  after  years  of  dreams,  it 
will  still  appear  and  reappear  to  wise  men.  That 
all  shall  right  itself  in  the  long  Morrow,  I  may 
well  allow,  and  my  novel  may  wait  for  the  same 
regeneration.  The  age,  that  can  damn  it  as  false 
and  falsifying,  will  see  that  it  is  deeply  one  with 
the  genius  and  history  of  all  the  centuries.  I  have 
given  my  characters  a  bias  to  error.  Men  have 
the  same.  I  have  let  mischance  befall  instead  of 
good  fortune.  They  do  so  daily.  And  out  of  many 
vices  and  misfortunes,  I  have  let  a  great  success 
grow,  as  I  had  known  in  my  own  and  many  other 
examples.  Fierce  churchmen  and  effeminate  aspi 
rants  will  chide  and  hate  my  name,  but  every  keen 
beholder  of  life  will  justify  my  truth,  and  will  ac 
quit  me  of  prejudging  the  cause  of  humanity  by 
painting  it  with  this  morose  fidelity.  To  a  pro- 


196  PAPERS  FROM   THE  DIAL. 

found  soul  is  not  austere  truth  the  sweetest  flat 
tery? 

Yes,  O  Goethe !  but  the  ideal  is  truer  than  the 
actual.  That  is  ephemeral,  but  this  changes  not. 
Moreover,  because  nature  is  moral,  that  mind  only 
can  see,  in  which  the  same  order  entirely  obtains. 
An  interchangeable  Truth,  Beauty  and  Goodness, 
each  wholly  interfused  in  the  other,  must  make  the 
humors  of  that  eye  which  would  see  causes  reaching 
to  their  last  effect  and  reproducing  the  world  for 
ever.  The  least  inequality  of  mixture,  the  excess 
of  one  element  over  the  other,  in  that  degree  dimin 
ishes  the  transparency  of  things,  makes  the  world 
opaque  to  the  observer,  and  destroys  so  far  the 
value  of  his  experience.  No  particular  gifts  can 
countervail  this  defect.  In  reading  Meister,  I  am 
charmed  with  the  insight ;  to  use  a  phrase  of  Ben 
Jonson's,  "  it  is  rammed  with  life."  I  find  there 
actual  men  and  women  even  too  faithfully  painted. 
I  am  moreover  instructed  in  the  possibility  of  a 
highly  accomplished  society,  and  taught  to  look  for 
great  talent  and  culture  under  a  gray  coat.  But 
this  is  all.  The  limits  of  artificial  society  are  never 
quite  out  of  sight.  The  vicious  conventions,  which 
hem  us  in  like  prison  walls  and  which  the  poet 
should  explode  at  his  touch,  stand  for  all  they  are 
worth  in  the  newspaper.  We  are  never  lifted 
above  ourselves,  we  are  not  transported  out  of  the 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.     197 

dominion  of  the  senses,  or  cheered  with  an  infinite 
tenderness,  or  armed  with  a  grand  trust. 

Goethe,  then,  must  be  set  down  as  the  poet  of 
the  Actual,  not  of  the  Ideal ;  the  poet  of  limitation, 
not  of  possibility ;  of  this  world,  and  not  of  religion 
and  hope ;  in  short,  if  we  may  say  so,  the  poet  of 
prose,  and  not  of  poetry.  He  accepts  the  base  doc 
trine  of  Fate,  and  gleans  what  straggling  joys  may 
yet  remain  out  of  its  ban.  He  is  like  a  banker  or 
a  weaver  with  a  passion  for  the  country ;  he  steals 
out  of  the  hot  streets  before  sunrise,  or  after  sun 
set,  or  on  a  rare  holiday,  to  get  a  draft  of  sweet 
air  and  a  gaze  at  the  magnificence  of  summer,  but 
dares  not  break  from  his  slavery  and  lead  a  man's 
life  in  a  man's  relation  to  nature.  In  that  which 
should  be  his  own  place,  he  feels  like  a  truant,  and 
is  scourged  back  presently  to  his  task  and  his  cell. 
Poetry  is  with  Goethe  thus  external,  the  gilding  of 
the  chain,  the  mitigation  of  his  fate  ;  but  the  Muse 
never  assays  those  thunder -tones  which  cause  to 
vibrate  the  sun  and  the  moon,  which  dissipate 
by  dreadful  melody  all  this  iron  network  of  cir 
cumstance,  and  abolish  the  old  heavens  and  the 
old  earth  before  the  freewill  or  Godhead  of  man. 
That  Goethe  had  not  a  moral  perception  propor 
tionate  to  his  other  powers,  is  not  then  merely  a 
circumstance,  as  we  might  relate  of  a  man  that  he 
had  or  had  not  the  sense  of  tune  or  an  eye  for 


198  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

colors,  but  it  is  the  cardinal  fact  of  health  or  dis 
ease  ;  since,  lacking  this,  he  failed  in  the  high 
sense  to  be  a  creator,  and,  with  divine  endow 
ments,  drops  by  irreversible  decree  into  the  com 
mon  history  of  genius.  He  was  content  to  fall  into 
the  track  of  vulgar  poets  and  spend  on  common 
aims  his  splendid  endowments,  and  has  declined 
the  office  proffered  to  now  and  then  a  man  in  many 
centuries  in  the  power  of  his  genius,  of  a  Redeemer 
of  the  human  mind.  He  has  written  better  than 
other  poets  only  as  his  talent  was  subtler,  but  the 
ambition  of  creation  he  refused.  Life  for  him  is 
prettier,  easier,  wiser,  decenter,  has  a  gem  or  two 
more  on  its  robe,  but  its  old  eternal  burden  is  not 
relieved ;  no  drop  of  healthier  blood  flows  yet  in 
its  veins.  Let  him  pass.  Humanity  must  wait  for 
its  physician  still  at  the  side  of  the  road,  and  con 
fess  as  this  man  goes  out,  that  they  have  served  it 
better  who  assured  it  out  of  the  innocent  hope  in 
their  hearts  that  a  Physician  will  come,  than  this 
majestic  Artist,  with  all  the  treasuries  of  wit,  of 
science,  and  of  power  at  his  command. 

The  criticism,  which  is  not  so  much  spoken  as 
felt  in  reference  to  Goethe,  instructs  us  directly  in 
the  hope  of  literature.  We  feel  that  a  man  gifted 
like  him  should  not  leave  the  world  as  he  found  it. 
It  is  true,  though  somewhat  sad,  that  every  fine 
genius  teaches  us  how  to  blame  himself.  Being  so 


THOUGHTS  ON  MODERN  LITERATURE.    199 

much,  we  cannot  forgive  him  for  not  being  more. 
When  one  of  these  grand  monads  is  incarnated 
whom  nature  seems  to  design  for  eternal  men  and 
draw  to  her  bosom,  we  think  that  the  old  weariness 
of  Europe  and  Asia,  the  trivial  forms  of  daily  life 
will  now  end,  and  a  new  morning  break  on  us  all. 
What  is  Austria  ?  What  is  England  ?  What  is 
our  graduated  and  petrified  social  scale  of  ranks 
and  employments  ?  Shall  not  a  poet  redeem  us  from 
these  idolatries,  and  pale  their  legendary  lustre  be 
fore  the  fires  of  the  Divine  Wisdom  which  burn  in 
his  heart  ?  All  that  in  our  sovereign  moments  each 
of  us  has  divined  of  the  powers  of  thought,  all  the 
hints  of  omnipresence  and  energy  which  we  have 
caught,  this  man  should  unfold,  and  constitute  facts. 
And  this  is  the  insatiable  craving  which  alter 
nately  saddens  and  gladdens  men  at  this  day.  The 
Doctrine  of  the  Life  of  Man  established  after  the 
truth  through  all  his  faculties ;  —  this  is  the  thought 
which  the  literature  of  this  hour  meditates  and 
labors  to  say.  This  is  that  which  tunes  the  tongue 
and  fires  the  eye  and  sits  in  the  silence  of  the  youth. 
Verily  it  will  not  long  want  articulate  and  melodi 
ous  expression.  There  is  nothing  in  the  heart  but 
comes  presently  to  the  lips.  The  very  depth  of  the 
sentiment,  which  is  the  author  of  all  the  cutaneous 
life  we  see,  is  guarantee  for  the  riches  of  science 
and  of  song  in  the  age  to  come.  He  who  doubts 


200  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

whether  this  age  or  this  country  can  yield  any  con 
tribution  to  the  literature  of  the  world,  only  be 
trays  his  own  blindness  to  the  necessities  of  the  hu 
man  soul.  Has  the  power  of  poetry  ceased,  or  the 
need  ?  Have  the  eyes  ceased  to  see  that  which 
they  would  have,  and  which  they  have  not  ?  Have 
they  ceased  to  see  other  eyes  ?  Are  there  no  lone 
ly,  anxious,  wondering  children,  who  must  tell  their 
tale  ?  Are  we  not  evermore  whipped  by  thoughts  ; 

"  In  sorrow  steeped,  and  steeped  in  love 
Of  thoughts  not  yet  incarnated." 

The  heart  beats  in  this  age  as  of  old,  and  the  pas 
sions  are  busy  as  ever.  Nature  has  not  lost  one  ring 
let  of  her  beauty,  one  impulse  of  resistance  and 
valor.  From  the  necessity  of  loving  none  are  ex 
empt,  and  he  that  loves  must  utter  his  desires.  A 
charm  as  radiant  as  beauty  ever  beamed,  a  love  that 
fainteth  at  the  sight  of  its  object,  is  new  to-day. 

"  The  world  does  not  run  smoother  than  of  old, 
There  are  sad  haps  that  must  be  told." 

Man  is  not  so  far  lost  but  that  he  suffers  ever  the 
great  Discontent  which  is  the  elegy  of  his  loss  and 
the  prediction  of  his  recovery.  In  the  gay  saloon 
he  laments  that  these  figures  are  not  what  Kaphael 
and  Guercino  painted.  Withered  though  he  stand, 
and  trifler  though  he  be,  the  august  spirit  of  the 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.  201 

world  looks  out  from  his  -  eyes.  In  his  heart  he 
knows  the  ache  of  spiritual  pain,  and  his  thought 
can  animate  the  sea  and  land.  What  then  shall 
hinder  the  Genius  of  the  time  from  speaking  its 
thought  ?  It  cannot  be  silent,  if  it  would.  It  will 
write  in  a  higher  spirit  and  a  wider  knowledge  and 
with  a  grander  practical  aim  than  ever  yet  guided 
the  pen  of  poet.  It  will  write  the  annals  of  a 
changed  world,  and  record  the  descent  of  principles 
into  practice,  of  love  into  Government,  of  love  into 
Trade.  It  will  describe  the  new  heroic  life  of  man, 
the  now  unbelieved  possibility  of  simple  living  and 
of  clean  and  noble  relations  with  men.  Religion 
will  bind  again  these  that  were  sometime  frivolous, 
customary,  enemies,  skeptics,  self-seekers,  into  a 
joyful  reverence  for  the  circumambient  Whole,  and 
that  which  was  ecstacy  shall  become  daily  bread. 

II. 

WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.1 

WE  sometimes  meet  in  a  stage  coach  in  New 
England  an  erect,  muscular  man,  with  fresh  com 
plexion  and  a  smooth  hat,  whose  nervous  speech 
instantly  betrays  the  English  traveller  ;  —  a  man 
nowise  cautious  to  conceal  his  name  or  that  of  his 
native  country,  or  his  very  slight  esteem  for  the 
persons  and  the  country  that  surround  him.  When 
1  The  Dial,  vol.  ii.  p.  262. 


202  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

Mr.  Bull  rides  in  an  American  coach,  he  speaks 
quick  and  strong;  he  is  very  ready  to  confess  his 
ignorance  of  everything  about  him,  persons,  man 
ners,  customs,  politics,  geography.  He  wonders 
that  the  Americans  should  build  with  wood,  whilst 
all  this  stone  is  lying  in  the  roadside ;  and  is  aston 
ished  to  learn  that  a  wooden  house  may  last  a  hun 
dred  years ;  nor  will  he  remember  the  fact  as  many 
minutes  after  it  has  been  told  him :  he  wonders 
that  they  do  not  make  elder-wine  and  cherry- 
bounce,  since  here  are  cherries,  and  every  mile  is 
crammed  with  elder-bushes.  He  has  never  seen  a 
good  horse  in  America,  nor  a  good  coach,  nor  a 
good  inn.  Here  is  very  good  earth  and  water  and 
plenty  of  them ;  that  he  is  free  to  allow ;  to  all 
other  gifts  of  nature  or  man  his  eyes  are  sealed  by 
the  inexorable  demand  for  the  precise  conveniences 
to  which  he  is  accustomed  in  England.  Add  to 
this  proud  blindness  the  better  quality  of  great 
downrightness  in  speaking  the  truth,  and  the  love 
of  fair  play,  on  all  occasions,  and  moreover  the 
peculiarity  which  is  alleged  of  the  Englishman, 
that  his  virtues  do  not  come  out  until  he  quarrels. 

Transfer  these  traits  to  a  very  elegant  and  ac 
complished  mind,  and  we  shall  have  no  bad  picture 
of  Walter  Savage  Landor,  who  may  stand  as  a 
favorable  impersonation  of  the  genius  of  his  coun 
trymen  at  the  present  day.  A  sharp,  dogmatic 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.  203 

man,  with  a  great  deal  of  knowledge,  a  great  deal 
of  worth,  and  a  great  deal  of  pride ;  with  a  pro 
found  contempt  for  all  that  he  does  not  under 
stand  ;  a  master  of  all  elegant  learning,  and  capa 
ble  of  the  utmost  delicacy  of  sentiment,  and  yet 
prone  to  indulge  a  sort  of  ostentation  of  coarse 
imagery  and  language.  His  partialities  and  dis 
likes  are  by  no  means  culpable,  but  are  often 
whimsical  and  amusing ;  yet  they  are  quite  sincere, 
and,  like  those  of  Johnson  and  Coleridge,  are  easily 
separable  from  the  man.  What  he  says  of  Words 
worth  is  true  of  himself,  that  he  delights  to  throw 
a  clod  of  dirt  on  the  table,  and  cry  "  Gentlemen, 
there  is  a  better  man  than  all  of  you."  Bolivar, 
Mina  and  General  Jackson  will  never  be  greater 
soldiers  than  Napoleon  and  Alexander,  let  Mr. 
Landor  think  as  he  will ;  nor  will  he  persuade  us 
to  burn  Plato  and  Xenophon,  out  of  our  admira 
tion  of  Bishop  Patrick,  or  "  Lucas  on  Happiness," 
or  "  Lucas  on  Holiness,"  or  even  Barrow's  Ser 
mons.  Yet  a  man  may  love  a  paradox  without 
either  losing  his  wit  or  his  honesty.  A  less  par 
donable  eccentricity  is  the  cold  and  gratuitous  ob 
trusion  of  licentious  images,  not  so  much  the  sug 
gestion  of  merriment  as  of  bitterness.  Montaigne 
assigns  as  a  reason  for  his  license  of  speech,  that 
he  is  tired  of  seeing  his  Essays  on  the  work-tables 
of  ladies,  and  he  is  determined  they  shall  for  the 


204  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

future  put  them  out  of  sight.  In  Mr.  Landor's 
coarseness  there  is  a  certain  air  of  defiance,  and 
the  rude  word  seems  sometimes  to  arise  from  a 
disgust  at  niceness  and  over-refinement.  Before  a 
well-dressed  company  he  plunges  his  fingers  in  a 
cesspool,  as  if  to  expose  the  whiteness  of  his  hands 
and  the  jewels  of  his  ring.  Afterward,  he  washes 
them  in  water,  he  washes  them  in  wine ;  but  you 
are  never  secure  from  his  freaks.  A  sort  of  Earl 
Peterborough  in  literature,  his  eccentricity  is  too 
decided  not  to  have  diminished  his  greatness.  He 
has  capital  enough  to  have  furnished  the  brain  of 
fifty  stock  authors,  yet  has  written  no  book. 

But  we  have  spoken  all  our  discontent.  Possibly 
his  writings  are  open  to  harsher  censure ;  but  we 
love  the  man,  from  sympathy  as  well  as  for  reasons 
to  be  assigned ;  and  have  no  wish,  if  we  were  able, 
to  put  an  argument  in  the  mouth  of  his  critics. 
Now  for  twenty  years  we  have  still  found  the  "  Im 
aginary  Conversations  "  a  sure  resource  in  solitude, 
and  it  seems  to  us  as  original  in  its  form  as  in  its 
matter.  Nay,  when  we  remember  his  rich  and  am 
ple  page,  wherein  we  are  always  sure  to  find  free 
and  sustained  thought,  a  keen  and  precise  under 
standing,  an  affluent  and  ready  memory  familiar 
with  all  chosen  books,  an  industrious  observation  in 
every  department  of  life,  an  experience  to  which 
nothing  has  occurred  in  vain,  honor  for  every  just 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.  205 

and  generous  sentiment  and  a  scourge  like  that  of 
Furies  for  every  oppressor,  whether  public  or  pri 
vate,  —  we  feel  how  dignified  is  this  perpetual  Cen 
sor  in  his  curule  chair,  and  we  wish  to  thank  a 
benefactor  of  the  reading  world. 

Mr.  Landor  is  one  of  the  foremost  of  that  small 
class  who  make  good  in  the  nineteenth  century  the 
claims  of  pure  literature.  In  these  busy  days  of 
avarice  and  ambition,  when  there  is  so  little  dispo 
sition  to  profound  thought  or  to  any  but  the  most 
superficial  intellectual  entertainments,  a  faithful 
scholar,  receiving  from  past  ages  the  treasures  of 
wit  and  enlarging  them  by  his  own  love,  is  a  friend 
and  consoler  of  mankind.  When  we  pronounce 
the  names  of  Homer  and  ^Eschylus ;  Horace,  Ovid 
and  Plutarch  ;  Erasmus,  Scaliger  and  Montaigne  ; 
Ben  Jonson  and  Isaak  Walton ;  Dryden  and  Pope, 
—  we  pass  at  once  out  of  trivial  associations  and 
enter  into  a  region  of  the  purest  pleasure  accessi 
ble  to  human  nature.  We  have  quitted  all  beneath 
the  moon  and  entered  that  crystal  sphere  in  which 
everything  in  the  world  of  matter  reappears,  but 
transfigured  and  immortal.  Literature  is  the  effort 
of  man  to  indemnify  himself  for  the  wrongs  of  his 
condition.  The  existence  of  the  poorest  play-wright 
and  the  humblest  scrivener  is  a  good  omen.  A 
charm  attaches  to  the  most  inferior  names  which 
have  in  any  manner  got  themselves  enrolled  in  the 


206  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

registers  of  the  House  of  Fame,  even  as  porters  and 
grooms  in  the  courts ;  to  Creech  and  Fenton,  Theo 
bald  and  Dennis,  Aubrey  and  Spence.  From  the 
moment  of  entering  a  library  and  opening  a  desired 
book,  we  cease  to  be  citizens,  creditors,  debtors, 
housekeepers  and  men  of  care  and  fear.  What 
boundless  leisure!  what  original  jurisdiction!  the 
old  constellations  have  set,  new  and  brighter  have 
arisen ;  an  Elysian  light  tinges  all  objects :  — 
"  In  the  afternoon  we  came  unto  a  land 
In  which  it  seemed  always  afternoon." 

And  this  sweet  asylum  of  an  intellectual  life 
must  appear  to  have  the  sanction  of  nature,  as  long 
as  so  many  men  are  born  with  so  decided  an  apti 
tude  for  reading  and  writing.  Let  us  thankfully 
allow  every  faculty  and  art  which  opens  new  scope 
to  a  life  so  confined  as  ours.  There  are  vast  spaces 
in  a  thought :  a  slave,  to  whom  the  religious  senti 
ment  is  opened,  has  a  freedom  which  makes  his 
master's  freedom  a  slavery.  Let  us  not  be  so  illib 
eral  with  our  schemes  for  the  renovation  of  society 
and  nature  as  to  disesteem  or  deny  the  literary 
spirit.  Certainly  there  are  heights  in  nature  which 
command  this ;  there  are  many  more  which  this 
commands.  It  is  vain  to  call  it  a  luxury,  and  as 
saints  and  reformers  are  apt  to  do,  decry  it  as  a 
species  of  day-dreaming.  What  else  are  sanctities, 
and  reforms,  and  all  other  things  ?  Whatever  can 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.  207 

make  for  itself  an  element,  means,  organs,  servants, 
and  the  most  profound  and  permanent  existence  in 
the  hearts  and  heads  of  millions  of  men,  must  have 
a  reason  for  its  being.  Its  excellency  is  reason  and 
vindication  enough.  If  rhyme  rejoices  us  there 
should  be  rhyme,  as  much  as  if  fire  cheers  us  we 
should  bring  wood  and  coals.  Each  kind  of  excel 
lence  takes  place  for  its  hour  and  excludes  every 
thing  else.  Do  not  brag  of  your  actions,  as  if  they 
were  better  than  Homer's  verses  or  Raphael's  pic 
tures.  Eaphael  and  Homer  feel  that  action  is  piti 
ful  beside  their  enchantments.  They  could  act  too, 
if  the  stake  was  worthy  of  them :  but  now  all  that 
is  good  in  the  universe  urges  them  to  their  task. 
Whoever  writes  for  the  love  of  truth  and  beauty, 
and  not  with  ulterior  ends,  belongs  to  this  sacred 
class ;  and  among  these,  few  men  of  the  present 
age  have  a  better  claim  to  be  numbered  than  Mr. 
Landor.  Wherever  genius  or  taste  has  existed, 
wherever  freedom  and  justice  are  threatened,  which 
he  values  as  the  element  in  which  genius  may  work, 
his  interest  is  sure  to  be  commanded.  His  love  of 
beauty  is  passionate,  and  betrays  itself  in  all  petu 
lant  and  contemptuous  expressions. 

But  beyond  his  delight  in  genius  and  his  love  of 
individual  and  civil  liberty,  Mr.  Landor  has  a  per 
ception  that  is  much  more  rare,  the  appreciation 
of  character.  This  is  the  more  remarkable  con- 


208  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

sidered  with  his  intense  nationality,  to  which  we 
have  already  alluded.  He  is  buttoned  in  English 
broadcloth  to  the  chin.  He  hates  the  Austrians, 
the  Italians,  the  French,  the  Scotch,  and  the  Irish. 
He  has  the  common  prejudices  of  an  English  land 
holder  ;  values  his  pedigree,  his  acres  and  the  syl 
lables  of  his  name ;  loves  all  his  advantages,  is  not 
insensible  to  the  beauty  of  his  watch-seal,  or  the 
Turk's  head  on  his  umbrella  ;  yet  with  all  this  mis 
cellaneous  pride  there  is  a  noble  nature  within  him 
which  instructs  him  that  he  is  so  rich  that  he  can 
well  spare  all  his  trappings,  and,  leaving  to  others 
the  painting  of  circumstance,  aspire  to  the  office  of 
delineating  character.  He  draws  his  own  portrait  in 
the  costume  of  a  village  schoolmaster,  and  a  sailor, 
and  serenely  enjoys  the  victory  of  nature  over  for 
tune.  Not  only  the  elaborated  story  of  Normanby, 
but  the  whimsical  selection  of  his  heads  proves  this 
taste.  He  draws  with  evident  pleasure  the  portrait 
of  a  man  who  never  said  anything  right  and  never 
did  anything  wrong.  But  in  the  character  of  Per 
icles  he  has  found  full  play  for  beauty  and  great 
ness  of  behavior,  where  the  circumstances  are  in  har 
mony  with  the  man.  These  portraits,  though  mere 
sketches,  must  be  valued  as  attempts  in  the  very 
highest  kind  of  narrative,  which  not  only  has  very 
few  examples  to  exhibit  of  any  success,  but  very  few 
competitors  in  the  attempt.  The  word  Character 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.  209 

is  in  all  mouths ;  it  is  a  force  which  we  all  feel ; 
yet  who  has  analyzed  it  ?  What  is  the  nature  of 
that  subtle  and  majestic  principle  wlr.ch  attaches  us 
to  a  few  persons,  not  so  much  by  personal  as  by  the 
most  spiritual  ties  ?  What  is  the  quality  of  the 
persons  who,  without  being  public  men,  or  literary 
men,  or  rich  men,  or  active  men,  or  (in  the  popular 
sense)  religious  men,  have  a  certain  salutary  omni 
presence  in  all  our  life's  history,  almost  giving  their 
own  quality  to  the  atmosphere  and  the  landscape  ? 
A  moral  force,  yet  wholly  unmindful  of  creed  and 
catechism,  intellectual,  but  scornful  of  books,  it 
works  directly  and  without  means,  and  though  it 
may  be  resisted  at  any  time,  yet  resistance  to  it  is  a 
suicide.  For  the  person  who  stands  in  this  lofty  re 
lation  to  his  fellow-men  is  always  the  impersonation 
to  them  of  their  conscience.  It  is  a  sufficient  proof 
of  the  extreme  delicacy  of  this  element,  evanescing 
before  any  but  the  most  sympathetic  vision,  that  it 
has  so  seldom  been  employed  in  the  drama  and  in 
novels.  Mr.  Landor,  almost  alone  among  living 
English  writers,  has  indicated  his  perception  of  it. 

These  merits  make  Mr.  Landor's  position  in  the 
republic  of  letters  one  of  great  mark  and  dignity. 
He  exercises  with  a  grandeur  of  spirit  the  office  of 
writer,  and  carries  it  with  an  air  of  old  and  unques 
tionable  nobility.  We  do  not  recollect  an  example 
of  more  complete  independence  in  literary  history. 


210  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

He  has  no  clanship,  no  friendships  that  warp  him. 
He  was  one  of  the  first  to  pronounce  Wordsworth 
the  great  poet  of  the  age,  yet  he  discriminates  his 
faults  with  the  greater  freedom.  He  loves  Pin 
dar,  .ZEschylus,  Euripides,  Aristophanes,  Demos 
thenes,  Virgil,  yet  with  open  eyes.  His  position 
is  by  no  means  the  highest  in  literature :  he  is  not 
a  poet  or  a  philosopher.  He  is  a  man  full  of 
thoughts,  but  not,  like  Coleridge,  a  man  of  ideas. 
Only  from  a  mind  conversant  with  the  First  Phi 
losophy  can  definitions  be  expected.  Coleridge 
has  contributed  many  valuable  ones  to  modern 
literature.  Mr.  Landor's  definitions  are  only  enu 
merations  of  particulars ;  the  generic  law  is  not 
seized.  But  as  it  is  not  from  the  highest  Alps  or 
Andes  but  from  less  elevated  summits  that  the  most 
attractive  landscape  is  commanded,  so  is  Mr.  Lan- 
dorthe  most  useful  and  agreeable  of  critics.  He 
has  commented  on  a  wide  variety  of  writers,  with 
a  closeness  and  extent  of  view  which  has  en 
hanced  the  value  of  those  authors  to  his  readers. 
His  Dialogue  on  the  Epicurean  philosophy  is  a 
theory  of  the  genius  of  Epicurus.  The  Dialogue 
between  Barrow  and  Newton  is  the  best  of  all  crit 
icisms  on  the  essays  of  Bacon.  His  picture  of  De 
mosthenes  in  three  several  Dialogues  is  new  and 
adequate.  He  has  illustrated  the  genius  of  Homer, 
^Eschylus,  Pindar,  Euripides,  Thucydides.  Then 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR.  211 

he  has  examined  before  he  has  expatiated,  and  the 
minuteness  of  his  verbal  criticism  gives  a  confidence 
in  his  fidelity  when  he  speaks  the  language  of  med 
itation  or  of  passion.  His  acquaintance  with  the 
English  tongue  is  unsurpassed.  He  "  hates  false 
words,  and  seeks  with  care,  difficulty  and  moroseness 
those  that  fit  the  thing."  He  knows  the  value  of  his 
own  words.  "  They  are  not,"  he  says,  "  written  on 
slate."  He  never  stoops  to  explanation,  nor  uses 
seven  words  where  one  will  do.  He  is  a  master  of 
condensation  and  suppression,  and  that  in  no  vul 
gar  way.  He  knows  the  wide  difference  between 
compression  and  an  obscure  elliptical  style.  The 
dense  writer  has  yet  ample  room  and  choice  of 
phrase,  and  even  a  gamesome  mood  often  between 
his  valid  words.  There  is  no  inadequacy  or  disa 
greeable  contraction  in  his  sentence,  any  more  than 
in  a  human  face,  where  in  a  square  space  of  a  few 
inches  is  found  room  for  every  possible  variety  of 
expression. 

Yet  it  is  not  as  an  artist  that  Mr.  Landor  com 
mends  himself  to  us.  He  is  not  epic  or  dramatic, 
he  has  not  the  high,  overpowering  method  by  which 
the  master  gives  unity  and  integrity  to  a  work  of 
many  parts.  He  is  too  wilful,  and  never  abandons 
himself  to  his  genius.  His  books  are  a  strange 
mixture  of  politics,  etymology,  allegory,  sentiment, 
and  personal  history ;  and  what  skill  of  transition 


V  E 


212  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

he  may  possess  is  superficial,  not  spiritual.  His 
merit  must  rest,  at  last,  not  on  the  spirit  of  the  dia 
logue  or  the  symmetry  of  any  of  his  historical 
portraits,  but  on  the  value  of  his  sentences.  Many 
of  these  will  secure  their  own  immortality  in  Eng 
lish  literature ;  and  this,  rightly  considered,  is  no 
mean  merit.  These  are  not  plants  and  animals, 
but  the  genetical  atoms  of  which  both  are  com 
posed.  All  our  great  debt  to  the  Oriental  world  is 
of  this  kind,  not  utensils  and  statues  of  the  precious 
metal,  but  bullion  and  gold-dust.  Of  many  of  Mr. 
Landor's  sentences  we  are  fain  to  remember  what 
was  said  of  those  of  Socrates ;  that  they  are  cubes, 
which  will  stand  firm,  place  them  how  or  where 
you  will. 

III. 

PRAYERS.1 

"  NOT  with  fond  shekels  of  the  tested  gold, 
Nor  gems  whose  rates  are  either  rich  or  poor 
As  fancy  values  them  :  but  with  true  prayers, 
That  shall  be  up  at  heaven  and  enter  there 
Ere  sunrise  ;  prayers  from  preserved  souls, 
From  fasting  maids,  whose  minds  are  dedicate 
To  nothing  temporal.  "  SHAKSPEARE. 

PYTHAGOKAS  said  that  the  time  when  men  are 
honestest  is  when  they  present  themselves  before  the 
gods.    If  we  can  overhear  the  prayer  we  shall  know 
1  The  Dial,  vol.  iii.  p.  77. 


PRAYERS.  213 

the  man.  But  prayers  are  not  made  to  be  over 
heard,  or  to  be  printed,  so  that  we  seldom  have  the 
prayer  otherwise  than  it  can  be  inferred  from  the 
man  and  his  fortunes,  which  are  the  answer  to  the 
prayer,  and  always  accord  with  it.  Yet  there  are 
scattered  about  in  the  earth  a  few  records  of  these 
devout  hours,  which  it  would  edify  us  to  read, 
could  they  be  collected  in  a  more  catholic  spirit 
than  the  wretched  and  repulsive  volumes  which 
usurp  that  name.  Let  us  not  have  the  prayers  of 
one  sect,  nor  of  the  Christian  Church,  but  of  men 
in  all  ages  and  religions  who  have  prayed  well. 
The  prayer  of  Jesus  is  (as  it  deserves)  become  a 
form  for  the  human  race.  Many  men  have  con 
tributed  a  single  expression,  a  single  word  to  the 
language  of  devotion,  which  is  immediately  caught 
and  stereotyped  in  the  prayers  of  their  church  and 
nation.  Among  the  remains  of  Euripides  we  have 
this  prayer  :  "  Thou  God  of  all !  infuse  light  into 
the  souls  of  men,  whereby  they  may  be  enabled  to 
know  what  is  the  root  from  whence  all  their  evils 
spring,  and  by  what  means  they  may  avoid  them." 
In  the  Phaedrus  of  Plato,  we  find  this  petition  in 
the  mouth  of  Socrates :  "  O  gracious  Pan  !  and  ye 
other  gods  who  preside  over  this  place !  grant  that 
I  may  be  beautiful  within ;  and  that  those  external 
things  which  I  have  may  be  such  as  may  best  agree 
with  a  right  internal  disposition  of  mine ;  and  that 


214  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

I  may  account  him  to  be  rich,  who  is  wise  and  just." 
Wacic  the  Caliph,  who  died  A.D,  845,  ended  his 
life,  the  Arabian  historians  tell  us,  with  these 
words :  "  O  thou  whose  kingdom  never  passes 
away,  pity  one  whose  dignity  is  so  transient." 
But  what  led  us  to  these  remembrances  was  the 
happy  accident  which  in  this  undevout  age  lately 
brought  us  acquainted  with  two  or  three  diaries, 
which  attest,  if  there  be  need  of  attestation,  the 
eternity  of  the  sentiment  and  its  equality  to  it 
self  through  all  the  variety  of  expression.  The 
first  is  the  prayer  of  a  deaf  and  dumb  boy :  — 

"  When  my  long-attached  friend  comes  to  me,  I  have 
pleasure  to  converse  with  him,  and  I  rejoice  to  pass  my 
eyes  over  his  countenance;  but  soon  I  am  weary  of 
spending  my  time  causelessly  and  unimproved,  and  I  de 
sire  to  leave  him,  (but  not  in  rudeness),  because  I 
wished  to  be  engaged  in  my  business.  But  thou,  0  my 
Father,  knowest  I  always  delight  to  commune  with  thee 
in  my  lone  and  silent  heart ;  I  am  never  full  of  thee  ;  I 
am  never  weary  of  thee  ;  I  am  always  desiring  thee.  I 
hunger  with  strong  hope  and  affection  for  thee,  and 
I  thirst  for  thy  grace  and  spirit. 

"  When  I  go  to  visit  my  friends,  I  must  put  on  my 
best  garments,  and  I  must  think  of  my  manner  to  please 
them.  I  am  tired  to  stay  long,  because  my  mind  is  not 
free,  and  they  sometimes  talk  gossip  with  me.  But  oh, 
my  Father,  thou  visitest  me  in  my  work,  and  I  can  lift 


PRAYERS.  215 

up  my  desires  to  thee,  and  my  heart  is  cheered  and  at 
rest  with  thy  presence,  and  I  am  always  alone  with  thee, 
andthou  dost  not  steal  my  time  by  foolishness.  I  al 
ways  ask  in  my  heart,  where  can  I  find  thee  ?  " 

The  next  is  a  voice  out  of  a  solitude  as  strict  and 
sacred  as  that  in  which  nature  had  isolated  this  elo 
quent  mute  :  — 

"  My  Father,  when  I  cannot  be  cheerful  or  happy,  I 
can  be  true  and  obedient,  and  I  will  not  forget  that  joy 
has  been,  and  may  still  be.  If  there  is  no  hour  of  soli 
tude  granted  me,  still  I  will  commune  with  thee.  If  I 
may  not  search  out  and  pierce  thy  thought,  so  much  the 
more  may  my  living  praise  thee.  At  whatever  price,  I 
must  be  alone  with  thee  ;  this  must  be  the  demand  I 
make.  These  duties  are  not  the  life,  but  the  means 
which  enable  us  to  show  forth  the  life.  So  must  I  take 
up  this  cross,  and  bear  it  willingly.  Why  should  I  feel 
reproved  when  a  busy  one  enters  the  room  ?  I  am  not 
idle,  though  I  sit  with  folded  hands,  but  instantly  I 
must  seek  some  cover.  For  that  shame  I  reprove  my 
self.  Are  they  only  the  valuable  members  of  society 
who  labor  to  dress  and  feed  it  ?  Shall  we  never  ask  the 
aim  of  all  this  hurry  and  foam,  of  this  aimless  activity  ? 
Let  the  purpose  for  which  I  live  be  always  before  me  ; 
let  every  thought  and  word  go  to  confirm  and  illuminate 
that  end ;  namely,  that  I  must  become  near  and  dear 
to  thee ;  that  now  I  am  beyond  the  reach  of  all  but  thee. 

"  How  can  we  not  be  reconciled  to  thy  will  ?  I  will 
know  the  joy  of  giving  to  my  friend  the  dearest  treasure 


216  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

I  have.  I  know  that  sorrow  comes  not  at  once  only. 
We  cannot  meet  it  and  say,  now  it  is  overcome,  but 
again,  and  yet  again,  its  flood  pours  over  us,  and  as  full 
as  at  first. 

"  If  but  this  tedious  battle  could  be  fought, 
Like  Sparta's  heroes  at  one  rocky  pass, 
'  One  day  be  spent  in  dying,  '  men  had  sought 
The  spot,  and  been  cut  down  like  mower's  grass." 

The  next  is  in  a  metrical  form.  It  is  the  aspi 
ration  of  a  different  mind,  in  quite  other  regions  of 
power  and  duty,  yet  they  all  accord  at  last. 

"  Great  God,  I  ask  thee  for  no  meaner  pelf 
Than  that  I  may  not  disappoint  myself, 
That  in  my  action  I  may  soar  as  high, 
As  I  can  now  discern  with  this  clear  eye. 

And  next  in  value,  which  thy  kindness  lends, 
That  I  may  greatly  disappoint  my  friends, 
Howe'er  they  think  or  hope  that  it  may  be, 
They  may  not  dream  how  thou'st  distinguished  me. 

That  my  weak  hand  may  equal  my  firm  faith, 

And  my  life  practise  more  than  my  tongue  saith  ; 

That  my  low  conduct  may  not  show, 

Nor  my  relenting  lines, 

That  I  thy  purpose  did  not  know, 

Or  overrated  thy  designs." 

The  last  of  the  four  orisons  is  written  in  a  singu 
larly  calm  and  healthful  spirit,  and  contains  this 
petition :  — 


PRAYERS.  217 

"  My  Father :  I  now  come  to  thee  with  a  desire  to 
thank  thee  for  the  continuance  of  our  love,  the  one  for 
the  other.  I  feel  that  without  thy  love  in  me  I  should 
be  alone  here  in  the  flesh.  I  cannot  express  my  grati 
tude  for  what  thou  hast  been  and  continuest  to  be  to  me. 
But  thou  knowest  what  my  feelings  are.  When  nought 
on  earth  seemeth  pleasant  to  me,  thou  dost  make  thy 
self  known  to  me,  and  teach  that  which  is  needful  for 
me,  and  dost  cheer  my  travels  on.  I  know  that  thou 
hast  not  created  me  and  placed  me  here  on  earth,  amidst 
its  toils  and  troubles  and  the  follies  of  those  around  me, 
and  told  me  to  be  like  thyself  when  I  see  so  little  of 
thee  here  to  profit  by  ;  thou  hast  not  done  this,  and  then 
left  me  here  to  myself,  a  poor,  weak  man,  scarcely  able 
to  earn  my  bread.  No ;  thou  art  my  Father  and  I  will 
love  thee,  for  thou  didst  first  love  me,  and  lovest  me  still. 
We  will  ever  be  parent  and  child.  Wilt  thou  give  me 
strength  to  persevere  in  this  great  work  of  redemption. 
Wilt  thou  show  me  the  true  means  of  accomplishing 
it.  ...  I  thank  thee  for  the  knowledge  that  I  have 
attained  of  thee  by  ,thy  sons  who  have  been  before  me, 
and  especially  for  him  who  brought  me  so  perfect  a  type 
of  thy  goodness  and  love  to  men.  ...  I  know  that 
thou  wilt  deal  with  me  as  I  deserve.  I  place  myself 
therefore  in  thy  hand,  knowing  that  thou  wilt  keep  me 
from  harm  so  long  as  I  consent  to  live  under  thy  pro 
tecting  care." 

Let  these  few  scattered  leaves,  which  a  chance 
(as  men  say,  but  which  to  us  shall  be  holy) 
brought  under  our  eye  nearly  at  the  same  moment, 


218  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

stand  as  an  example  of  innumerable  similar  expres 
sions  which  no  mortal  witness  has  reported,  and  be 
a  sign  of  the  times.  Might  they  be  suggestion 
to  many  a  heart  of  yet  higher  secret  experiences 
which  are  ineffable !  But  we  must  not  tie  up  the 
rosary  on  which  we  have  strung  these  few  white 
beads,  without  adding  a  pearl  of  great  price  from 
that  book  of  prayer,  the  "Confessions  of  Saint 
Augustine." 

"  And  being  admonished  to  reflect  upon  myself,  I  en 
tered  into  the  very  inward  parts  of  my  soul,  by  thy  con 
duct  ;  and  I  was  able  to  do  it,  because  now  thou  wert 
become  my  helper.  I  entered  and  discerned  with  the 
eye  of  my  soul  (such  as  it  was),  even  beyond  my  soul 
and  mind  itself,  the  Light  unchangeable.  Not  this  vul 
gar  light  which  all  flesh  may  look  upon,  nor  as  it  were 
a  greater  of  the  same  kind,  as  though  the  brightness  of 
this  should  be  manifold  greater  and  with  its  greatness 
take  up  all  space.  Not  such  was  this  light,  but  other, 
yea,  far  other  from  all  these.  Neither  was  it  so  above 
my  understanding  as  oil  swims  above  water,  or  as  the 
heaven  is  above  the  earth.  But  it  is  above  me,  because 
it  made  me  ;  and  I  am  under  it,  because  I  was  made 
by  it.  He  that  knows  truth  or  verity,  knows  what  that 
light  is,  and  he  that  knows  it,  knows  eternity,  and 
it  is  known  by  charity.  O  eternal  Verity  !  and  true 
Charity  !  and  dear  Eternity  !  thou  art  my  God,  to  thee 
do  I  sigh  day  and  night.  Thee  when  I  first  knew,  thou 
liftedst  me  up  that  I  might  see,  there  was  what  I  might 


AGRICULTURE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS.     219 

see,  and  that  1  was  not  yet  such  as  to  see.  And  thou 
didst  beat  back  my  weak  sight  upon  myself,  shooting 
out  beams  upon  me  after  a  vehement  manner;  and  I 
even  trembled  between  love  and  horror,  and  I  found 
myself  to  be  far  off,  and  even  in  the  very  region  of  dis 
similitude  from  thee." 


IV. 

AGRICULTURE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS.1 

IN  an  afternoon  in  April,  after  a  long  walk,  I 
traversed  an  orchard  where  boys  were  grafting 
apple-trees,  and  found  the  Farmer  in  his  corn-field. 
He  was  holding  the  plow,  and  his  son  driving  the 
oxen.  This  man  always  impresses  me  with  respect, 
he  is  so  manly,  so  sweet-tempered,  so  faithful,  so 
disdainful  of  all  appearances,  —  excellent  and  re- 
verable  in  his  old  weather-worn  cap  and  blue  frock 
bedaubed  with  the  soil  of  the  field  ;  so  honest  with 
al,  that  he  always  needs  to  be  watched  lest  he  should 
cheat  himself.  I  still  remember  with  some  shame 
that  in  some  dealing  we  had  together  a  long  time 
ago,  I  found  that  he  had  been  looking  to  my  inter 
est  in  the  affair,  and  I  had  been  looking  to  my  in 
terest,  and  nobody  had  looked  to  his  part.  As  I 
drew  near  this  brave  laborer  in  the  midst  of  his 
own  acres,  I  could  not  help  feeling  for  him  the  high 
est  respect.  Here  is  the  Ca3sar,  the  Alexander  of 
*  The  Dial,  vol.  iii.  p.  123. 


220  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

the  soil,  conquering  and  to  conquer,  after  how  many 
and  many  a  hard-fought  summer's  day  and  winter's 
day ;  not  like  Napoleon,  hero  of  sixty  battles  only, 
but  of  six  thousand,  and  out  of  every  one  he  has 
come  victor;  and  here  he  stands,  with  Atlantic 
strength  and  cheer,  invincible  still.  These  slight 
and  useless  city  limbs  of  ours  will  come  to  shame 
before  this  strong  soldier,  for  his  have  done  his  own 
work  and  ours  too.  What  good  this  man  has  or 
has  had,  he  has  earned.  No  rich  father  or  father- 
in-law  left  him  any  inheritance  of  land  or  money. 
He  borrowed  the  money  with  which  he  bought  his 
farm,  and  has  bred  up  a  large  family,  given  them 
a  good  education,  and  improved  his  land  in  every 
way  year  by  year,  and  this  without  prejudice  to 
himself  the  landlord,  for  here  he  is,  a  man  every 
inch  of  him,  and  reminds  us  of  the  hero  of  the 
Kobin  Hood  ballad,  — 

"Much,  the  miller's  son, 
There  was  no  inch  of  his  body 
But  it  was  worth  a  groom." 

Innocence  and  justice  have  written  their  names 
on  his  brow.  Toil  has  not  broken  his  spirit.  His 
laugh  rings  with  the  sweetness  and  hilarity  of  a 
child ;  yet  he  is  a  man  of  a  strongly  intellectual  taste, 
of  much  reading,  and  of  an  erect  good  sense  and 
independent  spirit  which  can  neither  brook  usurpa 
tion  nor  falsehood  in  any  shape.  I  walked  up  and 


AGRICULTURE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS.     221 

down  the  field,  as  he  ploughed  his  furrow,  and  we 
talked  as  we  walked.  Our  conversation  naturally 
turned  on  the  season  and  its  new  labors.  He  had 
been  reading  the  Keport  of  the  Agricultural  Survey 
of  the  Commonwealth,  and  had  found  good  things 
in  it ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  felt  toward 
the  author  much  as  soldiers  do  towards  the  histori 
ographer  who  follows  the  camp,  more  good-nature 
than  reverence  for  the  gownsman. 

The  First  Report,  he  said,  is  better  than  the  last, 
as  I  observe  the  first  sermon  of  a  minister  is  often 
his  best,  for  every  man  has  one  thing  which  he  spe 
cially  wishes  to  say,  and  that  comes  out  at  first.  But 
who  is  this  book  written  for  ?  Not  for  farmers ;  no 
pains  are  taken  to  send  it  to  them  ;  it  was  by  acci 
dent  that  this  volume  came  into  my  hands  for  a  few 
days.  And  it  is  not  for  them.  They  could  not  af 
ford  to  follow  such  advice  as  is  given  here ;  they 
have  sterner  teachers ;  their  own  business  teaches 
them  better.  No  ;  this  was  written  for  the  literary 
men.  But  in  that  case,  the  state  should  not  be  taxed 
to  pay  for  it.  Let  us  see.  The  account  of  the 
maple  sugar,  —  that  is  very  good  and  entertaining, 
and,  I  suppose,  true.  The  story  of  the  farmer's 
daughter,  whom  education  had  spoiled  for  every 
thing  useful  on  a  farm,  —  that  is  good  too,  and  we 
have  much  that  is  like  it  in  Thomas's  Almanack. 
But  why  this  recommendation  of  stone  houses? 


222  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

They  are  not  so  cheap,  not  so  dry,  and  not  so  fit  for 
us.  Our  roads  are  always  changing  their  direction, 
and  after  a  man  has  built  at  great  cost  a  stone  house, 
a  new  road  is  opened,  and  he  finds  himself  a  mile 
or  two  from  the  highway.  Then  our  people  are  not 
stationary,  like  those  of  old  countries,  but  always 
alert  to  better  themselves,  and  will  remove  from 
town  to  town  as  a  new  market  opens  or  a  better  farm 
is  to  be  had,  and  do  not  wish  to  spend  too  much  on 
their  buildings. 

The  Commissioner  advises  the  farmers  to  sell 
their  cattle  and  their  hay  in  the  fall,  and  buy  again 
in  the  spring.  But  we  farmers  always  know  what 
our  interest  dictates,  and  do  accordingly.  We  have 
no  choice  in  this  matter  ;  our  way  is  but  too  plain. 
Down  below,  where  manure  is  cheap  and  hay  dear, 
they  will  sell  their  oxen  in  November ;  but  for  me 
to  sell  my  cattle  and  my  produce  in  the  fall,  would 
be  to  sell  my  farm,  for  I  should  have  no  manure  to  re 
new  a  crop  in  the  spring.  And  thus  Necessity  farms 
it ;  necessity  finds  out  when  to  go  to  Brighton,  and 
when  to  feed  in  the  stall,  better  than  Mr.  Colman 
can  tell  us. 

But  especially  observe  what  is  said  throughout 
these  Reports  of  the  model  farms  and  model  far 
mers.  One  would  think  that  Mr.  D.  and  Major  S. 
were  the  pillars  of  the  Commonwealth.  The  good 
Commissioner  takes  off  his  hat  when  he  approaches 


AGRICULTURE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS.     223 

them,  distrusts  the  value  of  "  his  feeble  praise,"  and 
repeats  his  compliments  as  often  as  their  names  are 
introduced.  And  yet,  in  my  opinion,  Mr.  D.,  with 
all  his  knowledge  and  present  skill,  would  starve  in 
two  years  on  any  one  of  fifty  poor  farms  in  this 
neighborhood,  on  each  of  which  now  a  farmer  man 
ages  to  get  a  good  living.  Mr.  D.  inherited  a  farm, 
and  spends  on  it  every  year  from  other  resources ; 
otherwise  his  farm  had  ruined  him  long  since ;  — 
and  as  for  the  Major,  he  never  got  rich  by  his  skill 
in  making  land  produce,  but  in  making  men  pro 
duce.  The  truth  is,  a  farm  will  not  make  an  honest 
man  rich  in  money.  I  do  not  know  of  a  single  in 
stance  in  which  a  man  has  honestly  got  rich  by  farm 
ing  alone.  It  cannot  be  done.  The  way  in  which 
men  who  have  farms  grow  rich,  is  either  by  other 
resources,  or  by  trade,  or  by  getting  their  labor  for 
nothing,  or  by  other  methods  of  which  I  could  tell 
you  many  sad  anecdotes.  What  does  the  Agricultu 
ral  Surveyor  know  of  all  this  ?  What  can  he  know  ? 
He  is  the  victim  of  the  "  Keports,"  that  are  sent 
him,  of  particular  farms.  He  cannot  go  behind  the 
estimates  to  know  how  the  contracts  were  made,  and 
how  the  sales  were  effected.  The  true  men  of  skill, 
the  poor  farmers,  who,  by  the  sweat  of  their  face, 
without  an  inheritance  and  without  offence  to  their 
conscience  have  reared  a  family  of  valuable  citizens 
and  matrons  to  the  state,  reduced  a  stubborn  soil  to 


224  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

a  good  farm,  —  although  their  buildings  are  many 
of  them  shabby,  are  the  only  right  subjects  of  this 
Eeport ;  yet  these  make  no  figure  in  it.  These 
should  be  holden  up  to  imitation,  and  their  methods 
detailed  :  yet  their  houses  are  very  uninviting  and 
inconspicuous  to  State  Commissioners.  So  with 
these  premiums  to  farms,  and  premiums  at  cattle- 
shows.  The  class  that  I  describe  must  pay  the 
premium  which  is  awarded  to  the  rich.  Yet  the 
premium  obviously  ought  to  be  given  for  the  good 
management  of  a  poor  farm. 

In  this  strain  the  Farmer  proceeded,  adding  many 
special  criticisms.  He  had  a  good  opinion  of  the 
Surveyor,  and  acquitted  him  of  any  blame  in  the 
matter,  but  was  incorrigible  in  his  skepticism  con 
cerning  the  benefits  conferred  by  legislatures  011  the 
agriculture  of  Massachusetts.  I  believe  that  my 
friend  is  a  little  stiff  and  inconvertible  in  his  own 
opinions,  and  that  there  is  another  side  to  be  heard ; 
but  so  much  wisdom  seemed  to  lie  under  all  his 
statement  that  it  deserved  a  record. 


EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.         225 

V. 

EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.1 

IT  was  a  brighter  day  than  we  have  often  known 
in  our  literary  calendar,  when  within  a  twelvemonth 
a  single  London  advertisement  announced  a  new 
volume  of  poems  by  Wordsworth,  poems  by  Tenny 
son,  and  a  play  by  Henry  Taylor.  Wordsworth's 
nature  or  character  has  had  all  the  time  it  needed 
in  order  to  make  its  mark  and  supply  the  want  of 
talent.  We  have  learned  how  to  read  him.  We 
have  ceased  to  expect  that  which  he  cannot  give. 
He  has  the  merit  of  just  moral  perception,  but  not 
that  of  deft  poetic  execution.  How  would  Milton 
curl  his  lip  at  such  slipshod  newspaper  style.  Many 
of  his  poems,  as  for  example  the  Eylstone  Doe, 
might  be  all  improvised.  Nothing  of  Milton,  noth 
ing  of  Marvell,  of  Herbert,  of  Dryden,  could  be. 
These  are  such  verses  as  in  a  just  state  of  culture 
should  be  vers  de  sociSte,  such  as  every  gentleman 
could  write  but  none  would  think  of  printing,  or  of 
claiming  the  poet's  laurel  on  their  merit.  The  Pin 
dar,  the  Shakspeare,  the  Dante,  whilst  they  have 
the  just  and  open  soul,  have  also  the  eye  to  see  the 
dimmest  star  that  glimmers  in  the  Milky  Way,  the 
serratures  of  every  leaf,  the  test-objects  of  the  mi- 
1  The  Dial,  vol.  in.  p.  511. 


226  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

croscope,  and  then  the  tongue  to  utter  the  same 
things  in  words  that  engrave  them  on  all  the  ears 
of  mankind.  The  poet  demands  all  gifts,  and  not 
one  or  two  only. 

The  poet,  like  the  electric  rod,  must  reach  from 
a  point  nearer  the  sky  than  all  surrounding  objects, 
down  to  the  earth,  and  into  the  dark  wet  soil,  or 
neither  is  of  use.  The  poet  must  not  only  converse 
with  pure  thought,  but  he  must  demonstrate  it  al 
most  to  the  senses.  His  words  must  be  pictures, 
his  verses  must  be  spheres  and  cubes,  to  be  seen  and 
smelled  and  handled.  His  fable  must  be  a  good 
story,  and  its  meaning  must  hold  as  pure  truth.  In 
the  debates  on  the  Copyright  Bill,  in  the  English 
Parliament,  Mr.  Sergeant  Wakley,  the  coroner, 
quoted  Wordsworth's  poetry  in  derision,  and  asked 
the  roaring  House  of  Commons  what  that  meant, 
and  whether  a  man  should  have  public  reward  for 
writing  such  stuff.  Homer,  Horace,  Milton  and 
Chaucer  would  defy  the  coroner.  Whilst  they  have 
wisdom  to  the  wise,  he  would  see  that  to  the  exter 
nal  they  have  external  meaning.  Coleridge  excel 
lently  said  of  poetry,  that  poetry  must  first  be  good 
sense ;  as  a  palace  might  well  be  magnificent,  but 
first  it  must  be  a  house. 

Wordsworth  is  open  to  ridicule  of  this  kind. 
And  yet  Wordsworth,  though  satisfied  if  he  can 
suggest  to  a  sympathetic  mind  his  own  mood,  and 


EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.         227 

though  setting  a  private  and  exaggerated  value  on 
his  compositions ;  though  confounding  his  acci 
dental  with  the  universal  consciousness,  and  taking 
the  public  to  task  for  not  admiring  his  poetry,  — 
is  really  a  master  of  the  English  language,  and  his 
poems  evince  a  power  of  diction  that  is  no  more 
rivalled  by  his  contemporaries  than  is  his  poetic  in 
sight.  But  the  capital  merit  of  Wordsworth  is  that 
he  has  done  more  for  the  sanity  of  this  generation 
than  any  other  writer.  Early  in  life,  at  a  crisis 
it  is  said  in  his  private  affairs,  he  made  his  election 
between  assuming  and  defending  some  legal  rights, 
with  the  chances  of  wealth  and  a  position  in  the 
world,  —  and  the  inward  promptings  of  his  heavenly 
genius ;  he  took  his  part ;  he  accepted  the  call  to  be 
a  poet,  and  sat  down,  far  from  cities,  with  coarse 
clothing  and  plain  fare  to  obey  the  heavenly  vision. 
The  choice  he  had  made  in  his  will,  manifested  it 
self  in  every  line  to  be  real.  We  have  poets  who 
write  the  poetry  of  society,  of  the  patrician  and  con 
ventional  Europe,  as  Scott  and  Moore,  and  others 
who,  like  Byron  or  Bulwer,  write  the  poetry  of  vice 
and  disease.  But  Wordsworth  threw  himself  into  his 
place,  made  no  reserves  or  stipulations ;  man  and 
writer  were  not  to  be  divided.  He  sat  at  the  foot 
of  Helvellyii  and  on  the  margin  of  Windermere, 
and  took  their  lustrous  mornings  and  their  sublime 
midnights  for  his  theme,  and  not  Marlow,  nor  Mas- 


228  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

singer,  not  Horace,  nor  Milton,  nor  Dante.  He 
once  for  all  forsook  the  styles  and  standards  and 
modes  of  thinking  of  London  and  Paris,  and  the 
books  read  there,  and  the  aims  pursued,  and  wrote 
Helvellyn  and  Windermere,  and  the  dim  spirits 
which  these  haunts  harbored.  There  was  not  the 
least  attempt  to  reconcile  these  with  the  spirit  of 
fashion  and  selfishness,  nor  to  show,  with  great  def 
erence  to  the  superior  judgment  of  dukes  and  earls, 
that  although  London  was  the  home  for  men  of 
great  parts,  yet  Westmoreland  had  these  consola 
tions  for  such  as  fate  had  condemned  to  the  country 
life,  —  but  with  a  complete  satisfaction  he  pitied 
and  rebuked  their  false  lives,  and  celebrated  his 
own  with  the  religion  of  a  true  priest.  Hence  the 
antagonism  which  was  immediately  felt  between  his 
poetry  and  the  spirit  of  the  age,  that  here  not  only 
criticism  but  conscience  and  will  were  parties ;  the 
spirit  of  literature  and  the  modes  of  living  and  the 
conventional  theories  of  the  conduct  of  life  were 
called  in  question  on  wholly  new  grounds,  —  not 
from  Platonism,  not  from  Christianity,  but  from 
the  lessons  which  the  country  muse  taught  a  stout 
pedestrian  climbing  a  mountain  and  following  a 
river  from  its  parent  rill  down  to  the  sea.  The 
Cannings  and  Jeffreys  of  the  capital,  the  Court 
Journals  and  Literary  Gazettes  were  not  well 
pleased,  and  voted  the  poet  a  bore.  But  that  which 


EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.         229 

rose  in  Mm  so  high  as  to  the  lips,  rose  in  many 
others  as  high  as  to  the  heart.  What  he  said,  they 
were  prepared  to  hear  and  confirm.  The  influence 
was  in  the  air,  and  was  wafted  up  and  down  into 
lone  and  into  populous  places,  resisting  the  popular 
taste,  modifying  opinions  which  it  did  not  change, 
and  soon  came  to  be  felt  in  poetry,  in  criticism,  in 
plans  of  life,  and  at  last  in  legislation.  In  this 
country  it  very  early  found  a  stronghold,  and  its 
effect  may  be  traced  on  all  the  poetry  both  of  Eng 
land  and  America. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  Wordsworth's  grand 
merits,  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  know  that  Alfred 
Tennyson's  two  volumes  were  coming  out  in  the 
same  ship ;  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  receive  them. 
The  elegance,  the  wit  and  subtlety  of  this  writer, 
his  rich  fancy,  his  power  of  language,  his  metrical 
skill,  his  independence  on  any  living  masters,  his 
peculiar  topics,  his  taste  for  the  costly  and  gorgeous, 
discriminate  the  musky  poet  of  gardens  and  con 
servatories,  of  parks  and  palaces.  Perhaps  we  felt 
the  popular  objection  that  he  wants  rude  truth; 
he  is  too  fine.  In  these  boudoirs  of  damask  and 
alabaster,  one  is  farther  off  from  stern  nature  and 
human  life  than  in  Lalla  Rookh  and  "  The  Loves 
of  the  Angels."  Amid  swinging  censers  and  per 
fumed  lamps,  amidst  velvet  and  glory  we  long  for 
rain  and  frost.  Otto-of-roses  is  good,  but  wild  air 


230  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

is  better.  A  critical  friend  of  ours  affirms  that  the 
vice  which  bereaved  modern  painters  of  their  power, 
is  the  ambition  to  begin  where  their  fathers  ended ; 
to  equal  the  masters  in  their  exquisite  finish,  instead 
of  their  religious  purpose.  The  painters  are  not 
willing  to  paint  ill  enough  ;  they  will  not  paint  for 
their  times,  agitated  by  the  spirit  which  agitates 
their  country;  so  should  their  picture  picture  us 
and  draw  all  men  after  them ;  but  they  copy  the 
technics  of  their  predecessors,  and  paint  for  their 
predecessors'  public.  It  seems  as  if  the  same  vice 
had  worked  in  poetry.  Tennyson's  compositions 
are  not  so  much  poems  as  studies  in  poetry,  or 
sketches  after  the  styles  of  sundry  old  masters.  He 
is  not  the  husband,  who  builds  the  homestead  after 
his  own  necessity,  from  foundation-stone  to  chim 
ney-top  and  turret,  but  a  tasteful  bachelor  who  col 
lects  quaint  staircases  and  groined  ceilings.  We 
have  no  right  to  such  superfineness.  We  must  not 
make  our  bread  of  pure  sugar.  These  delicacies 
and  splendors  are  then  legitimate  when  they  are  the 
excess  of  substantial  and  necessary  expenditure. 
The  best  songs  in  English  poetry  are  by  that  heavy, 
hard,  pedantic  poet,  Ben  Jonson.  Jonson  is  rude, 
and  only  on  rare  occasions  gay.  Tennyson  is  al 
ways  fine;  but  Jonson's  beauty  is  more  grateful 
than  Tennyson's.  It  is  a  natural  manly  grace  of  a 
robust  workman.  Ben's  flowers  are  not  in  pots  at 


EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.          231 

a  city  florist's,  arranged  on  a  flower-stand,  but  he 
is  a  countryman  at  a  harvest-home,  attending  his 
ox-cart  from  the  fields,  loaded  with  potatoes  and 
apples,  with  grapes  and  plums,  with  nuts  and  ber 
ries,  and  stuck  with  boughs  of  hemlock  and  sweet- 
briar,  with  ferns  and  pond  lilies  which  the  children 
have  gathered.  But  let  us  not  quarrel  with  our 
benefactors.  Perhaps  Tennyson  is  too  quaint  and 
elegant.  What  then?  It  is  long  since  we  have 
had  as  good  a  lyrist ;  it  will  be  long  before  we  have 
his  superior.  "  Godiva  "  is  a  noble  poem  that  will 
tell  the  legend  a  thousand  years.  The  poem  of  all 
the  poetry  of  the  present  age  for  which  we  predict 
the  longest  term,  is  "  Abou  ben  Adhem,"  of  Leigh 
Hunt.  Fortune  will  still  have  her  part  in  every 
victory,  and  it  is  strange  that  one  of  the  best  poems 
should  be  written  by  a  man  who  has  hardly  written 
any  other.  And  "  Godiva  "  is  a  parable  which  be 
longs  to  the  same  gospel.  "Locksley  Hall"  and 
"The  Two  Voices"  are  meditative  poems,  which 
were  slowly  written  to  be  slowly  read.  "  The  Talk 
ing  Oak,"  though  a  little  hurt  by  its  wit  and  in 
genuity,  is  beautiful,  and  the  most  poetic  of  the  vol 
ume.  "  Ulysses  "  belongs  to  a  high  class  of  poetry, 
destined  to  be  the  highest;  and  to  be  more  culti 
vated  in  the  next  generation.  "CEnone"  was  a 
sketch  of  the  same  kind.  One  of  the  best  speci 
mens  we  have  of  the  class  is  Wordsworth's  "  Lao- 


232  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

damia,"  of  which  no  special  merit  it  can  possess 
equals  the  total  merit  of  having  selected  such  a  sub 
ject  in  such  a  spirit. 

Next  to  the  poetry,  the  novels,  which  come  to  us 
in  every  ship  from  England,  have  an  importance  in 
creased  by  the  immense  extension  of  their  circula 
tion  through  the  new  cheap  press,  which  sends  them 
to  so  many  willing  thousands.  We  have  heard  it 
alleged  with  some  evidence  that  the  prominence 
given  to  intellectual  power  in  Bulwer's  romances 
has  proved  a  main  stimulus  to  mental  culture  in 
thousands  of  young  men  in  England  and  America. 
The  effect  on  manners  cannot  be  less  sensible,  and 
we  can  easily  believe  that  the  behavior  of  the  ball 
room  and  of  the  hotel  has  not  failed  to  draw  some 
addition  of  dignity  and  grace  from  the  fair  ideals 
with  which  the  imagination  of  a  novelist  has  filled 
the  heads  of  the  most  imitative  class. 

We  are  not  very  well  versed  in  these  books,  yet 
we  have  read  Mr.  Bulwer  enough  to  see  that  the 
story  is  rapid  and  interesting ;  he  has  really  seen 
London  society,  and  does  not  draw  ignorant  carica 
tures.  He  is  not  a  genius,  but  his  novels  are 
marked  with  great  energy  and  with  a  courage  of 
experiment  which  in  each  instance  had  its  degree 
of  success.  The  story  of  Zanoni  was  one  of  those 
world-fables  which  is  so  agreeable  to  the  human 
imagination  that  it  is  found  in  some  form  in  the 


EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.         233 

language  of  every  country,  and  is  always  reappear 
ing  in  literature.  Many  of  the  details  of  this  novel 
preserve  a  poetic  truth.  We  read  Zanoni  with 
pleasure,  because  magic  is  natural.  It  is  implied 
in  all  superior  culture  that  a  complete  man  would 
need  no  auxiliaries  to  his  personal  presence.  The 
eye  and  the  word  are  certainly  far  subtler  and 
stronger  weapons  than  either  money  or  knives. 
Whoever  looked  on  the  hero  would  consent  to  his 
will,  being  certified  that  his  aims  were  universal, 
not  selfish  ;  and  he  would  be  obeyed  as  naturally  as 
the  rain  and  the  sunshine  are.  For  this  reason,  chil 
dren  delight  in  fairy  tales.  Nature  is  described  in 
them  as  the  servant  of  man,  which  they  feel  ought 
to  be  true.  But  Zanoni  pains  us  and  the  author 
loses  our  respect,  because  he  speedily  betrays  that  he 
does  not  see  the  true  limitations  of  the  charm ;  be 
cause  the  power  with  which  his  hero  is  armed  is  a 
toy,  inasmuch  as  the  power  does  not  flow  from  its  le 
gitimate  fountains  in  the  mind,  is  a  power  for  Lon 
don  ;  a  divine  power  converted  into  a  burglar's  false 
key  or  a  highwayman's  pistol  to  rob  and  kill  with. 
But  Mr.  Bulwer's  recent  stories  have  given  us 
who  do  not  read  novels,  occasion  to  think  of  this 
department  of  literature,  supposed  to  be  the  natural 
fruit  and  expression  of  the  age.  We  conceive  that 
the  obvious  division  of  modern  romance  is  into  two 
kinds:  first,  the  novels  of  costume  or  of  circum- 


234  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

stance,  which  is  the  old  style,  and  vastly  the  most 
numerous.  In  this  class,  the  hero,  without  any 
particular  character,  is  in  a  very  particular  circum 
stance  ;  he  is  greatly  in  want  of  a  fortune  or  of  a 
wife,  and  usually  of  both,  and  the  business  of  the 
piece  is  to  provide  him  suitably.  This  is  the  prob 
lem  to  be  solved  in  thousands  of  English  romances, 
including  the  Porter  novels  and  the  more  splendid 
examples  of  the  Edgeworth  and  Scott  Romances. 

It  is  curious  how  sleepy  and  foolish  we  are,  that 
these  tales  will  so  take  us.  Again  and  again  we 
have  been  caught  in  that  old  foolish  trap.  Had 
one  noble  thought  opening  the  chambers  of  the  in 
tellect,  one  sentiment  from  the  heart  of  God  been 
spoken  by  them,  the  reader  had  been  made  a  par 
ticipator  of  their  triumph  ;  he  too  had  been  an  in 
vited  and  eternal  guest ;  but  this  reward  granted 
them  is  property,  all-excluding  property,  a  little 
cake  baked  for  them  to  eat  and  for  none  other,  nay, 
a  preference  and  cosseting  which  is  rude  and  insult 
ing  to  all  but  the  minion. 

Except  in  the  stories  of  Edgeworth  and  Scott, 
whose  talent  knew  how  to  give  to  the  book  a  thou 
sand  adventitious  graces,  the  novels  of  costume  are 
all  one,  and  there  is  but  one  standard  English  novel, 
like  the  one  orthodox  sermon,  which  with  slight 
variation  is  repeated  every  Sunday  from  so  many 
pulpits. 


EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS.         235 

But  the  other  novel,  of  which  "  Wilhelm  Meister" 
is  the  best  specimen,  the  novel  of  character,  treats 
the  reader  with  more  respect ;  the  development  of 
character  being  the  problem,  the  reader  is  made  a 
partaker  of  the  whole  prosperity.  Everything  good 
in  such  a  story  remains  with  the  reader  when  the 
book  is  closed.  A  noble  book  was  Wilhelm  Meis 
ter.  It  gave  the  hint  of  a  cultivated  society  which 
we  found  nowhere  else.  It  was  founded  on  power 
to  do  what  was  necessary,  each  person  finding  it  an 
indispensable  qualification  of  membership  that  he 
could  do  something  useful,  as  in  mechanics  or  agri 
culture  or  other  indispensable  art ;  then  a  probity, 
a  justice  was  to  be  its  element,  symbolized  by  the 
insisting  that  each  property  should  be  cleared  of 
privilege,  and  should  pay  its  full  tax  to  the  State. 
Then  a  perception  of  beauty  was  the  equally  indis 
pensable  element  of  the  association,  by  which  each 
was  dignified  and  all  were  dignified  ;  then  each  was 
to  obey  his  genius  to  the  length  of  abandonment. 
They  watched  each  candidate  vigilantly,  without 
his  knowing  that  he  was  observed,  and  when  he  had 
given  proof  that  he  was  a  faithful  man,  then  all 
doors,  all  houses,  all  relations  were  open  to  him ; 
high  behavior  fraternized  with  high  behavior, 
without  question  of  heraldry,  and  the  only  power 
recognized  is  the  force  of  character. 

The  novels  of  Fashion,  of  D'lsraeli,  Mrs.  Gore, 


236  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

Mr.  Ward,  belong  to  the  class  of  novels  of  costume, 
because  the  aim  is  purely  external  success.  Of  the 
tales  of  fashionable  life,  by  far  the  most  agreeable 
and  the  most  efficient  was  Vivian  Grey.  Young 
men  were  and  still  are  the  readers  and  victims. 
Byron  ruled  for  a  time,  but  Vivian,  with  no  tithe 
of  Byron's  genius,  rules  longer.  One  can  distin 
guish  the  Vivians  in  all  companies.  They  would 
quiz  their  father  and  mother  and  lover  and  friend. 
They  discuss  sun  and  planets,  liberty  and  fate,  love 
and  death,  over  the  soup.  They  never  sleep,  go 
nowhere,  stay  nowhere,  eat  nothing,  and  know  no 
body,  but  are  up  to  anything,  though  it  were  the 
genesis  of  nature,  or  the  last  cataclysm,  —  Festus- 
like,  Faust-like,  Jove-like,  and  could  write  an  Iliad 
any  rainy  morning,  if  fame  were  not  such  a  bore. 
Men,  women,  though  the  greatest  and  fairest,  are 
stupid  things ;  but  a  rifle,  and  a  mild  pleasant  gun 
powder,  a  spaniel,  and  a  cheroot,  are  themes  for 
Olympus.  I  fear  it  was  in  part  the  influence  of 
such  pictures  on  living  society  which  made  the  style 
of  manners  of  which  we  have  so  many  pictures,  as, 
for  example,  in  the  following  account  of  the  Eng 
lish  f  ashionist.  "  His  highest  triumph  is  to  appear 
with  the  most  wooden  manners,  as  little  polished  as 
will  suffice  to  avoid  castigation,  nay,  to  contrive 
even  his  civilities  so  that  they  may  appear  as  near 
as  may  be  to  affronts  ;  instead  of  a  noble  high-bred 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.  237 

ease,  to  have  the  courage  to  offend  against  every 
restraint  of  decorum,  to  invert  the  relation  in  which 
our  sex  stand  to  women,  so  that  they  appear  the 
attacking,  and  he  the  passive  or  defensive  party." 

We  must  here  check  our  gossip  in  mid  volley 
and  adjourn  the  rest  of  our  critical  chapter  to  a 
more  convenient  season. 


VI. 

PAST  AND  PRESENT.1 

HERE  is  Carlyle's  new  poem,  his  Iliad  of  English 
woes,  to  follow  his  poem  on  France,  entitled  the 
History  of  the  French  Revolution.  In  its  first 
aspect  it  is  a  political  tract,  and  since  Burke,  since 
Milton,  we  have  had  nothing  to  compare  with  it. 
It  grapples  honestly  with  the  facts  lying  before  all 
men,  groups  and  disposes  them  with  a  master's 
mind,  and,  with  a  heart  full  of  manly  tenderness, 
offers  his  best  counsel  to  his  brothers.  Obviously 
it  is  the  book  of  a  powerful  and  accomplished 
thinker,  who  has  looked  with  naked  eyes  at  the 
dreadful  political  signs  in  England  for  the  last  few 
years,  has  conversed  much  on  these  topics  with  such 
wise  men  of  all  ranks  and  parties  as  are  drawn  to  a 
scholar's  house,  until  such  daily  and  nightly  medi- 
The  Dial,  vol.  iv.  p.  96. 


238  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

tation  has  grown  into  a  great  connection,  if  not  a 
system  of  thoughts ;  and  the  topic  of  English  poli 
tics  becomes  the  best  vehicle  for  the  expression  of 
his  recent  thinking,  recommended  to  him  by  the  de 
sire  to  give  some  timely  counsels,  and  to  strip  the 
worst  mischiefs  of  their  plausibility.  It  is  a  brave 
and  just  book,  and  not  a  semblance.  "  No  new 
truth,"  say  the  critics  on  all  sides.  Is  it  so  ?  Truth 
is  very  old,  but  the  merit  of  seers  is  not  to  invent 
but  to  dispose  objects  in  their  right  places,  and  he 
is  the  commander  who  is  always  in  the  mount, 
whose  eye  not  only  sees  details,  but  throws  crowds 
of  details  into  their  right  arrangement  and  a  larger 
and  juster  totality  than  any  other.  The  book  makes 
great  approaches  to  true  contemporary  history,  a 
very  rare  success,  and  firmly  holds  up  to  daylight 
the  absurdities  still  tolerated  in  the  English  and 
European  system.  It  is  such  an  appeal  to  the  con 
science  and  honor  of  England  as  cannot  be  forgot 
ten,  or  be  feigned  to  be  forgotten.  It  has  the  merit 
which  belongs  to  every  honest  book,  that  it  was  self- 
examining  before  it  was  eloquent,  and  so  hits  all 
other  men,  and,  as  the  country  people  say  of  good 
preaching,  "  comes  bounce  down  into  every  pew." 
Every  reader  shall  carry  away  something.  The 
scholar  shall  read  and  write,  the  farmer  and  me 
chanic  shall  toil,  with  new  resolution,  nor  forget 
the  book  when  they  resume  their  labor. 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.  239 

Though  no  theocrat,  and  more  than  most  philos 
ophers  a  believer  in  political  systems,  Mr.  Carlyle 
very  fairly  finds  the  calamity  of  the  times,  not  in 
bad  bills  of  Parliament,  nor  the  remedy  in  good  bills, 
but  the  vice  in  false  and  superficial  aims  of  the  peo 
ple,  and  the  remedy  in  honesty  and  insight.  Like 
every  work  of  genius,  its  great  value  is  in  telling 
such  simple  truths.  As  we  recall  the  topics,  we 
are  struck  with  the  force  given  to  the  plain  truths  ; 
the  picture  of  the  English  nation  all  sitting  en 
chanted,  the  poor,  enchanted  so  that  they  cannot 
work,  the  rich,  enchanted  so  that  they  cannot  enjoy, 
and  are  rich  in  vain ;  the  exposure  of  the  progress 
of  fraud  into  all  arts  and  social  activities  ;  the  prop 
osition  that  the  laborer  must  have  a  greater  share 
in  his  earnings ;  that  the  principle  of  permanence 
shall  be  admitted  into  all  contracts  of  mutual  ser 
vice  ;  that  the  state  shall  provide  at  least  school 
master's  education  for  all  the  citizens  ;  the  exhorta 
tion  to  the  workman  that  he  shall  respect  the  work 
and  not  the  wages  ;  to  the  scholar  that  he  shall  be 
there  for  light ;  to  the  idle,  that  no  man  shall  sit 
idle ;  the  picture  of  Abbot  Samson,  the  true  gov 
ernor,  who  "  is  not  there  to  expect  reason  and  no 
bleness  of  others,  he  is  there  to  give  them  of  his 
own  reason  and  nobleness ; "  and  the  assumption 
throughout  the  book,  that  a  new  chivalry  and  no 
bility,  namely  the  dynasty  of  labor,  is  replacing  the 


240  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

old  nobilities.  These  things  strike  us  with  a  force 
which  reminds  us  of  the  morals  of  the  Oriental 
or  early  Greek  masters,  and  of  no  modern  book. 
Truly  in  these  things  is  great  reward.  It  is  not  by 
sitting  still  at  a  grand  distance  and  calling  the  hu 
man  race  larvce,  that  men  are  to  be  helped,  nor 
by  helping  the  depraved  after  their  own  foolish 
fashion,  but  by  doing  unweariedly  the  particular 
work  we  were  born  to  do.  Let  no  man  think  him 
self  absolved  because  he  does  a  generous  action  and 
befriends  the  poor,  but  let  him  see  whether  he  so 
holds  his  property  that  a  benefit  goes  from  it  to  all. 
A  man's  diet  should  be  what  is  simplest  and  readi 
est  to  be  had,  because  it  is  so  private  a  good.  His 
house  should  be  better,  because  that  is  for  the  use 
of  hundreds,  perhaps  of  thousands,  and  is  the  prop 
erty  of  the  traveller.  But  his  speech  is  a  perpetual 
and  public  instrument ;  let  that  always  side  with  the 
race  and  yield  neither  a  lie  nor  a  sneer.  His  man 
ners,  —  let  them  be  hospitable  and  civilizing,  so 
that  no  Phidias  or  Raphael  shall  have  taught  any 
thing  better  in  canvas  or  stone ;  and  his  acts 
should  be  representative  of  the  human  race,  as  one 
who  makes  them  rich  in  his  having,  and  poor  in  his 
want. 

It  requires  great  courage  in  a  man  of  letters  to 
handle  the  contemporary  practical  questions;  not 
because  he  then  has  all  men  for  his  rivals,  but  be- 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.  241 

cause  of  the  infinite  entanglements  of  the  problem, 
and  the  waste  of  strength  in  gathering  unripe  fruits. 
The  task  is  superhuman ;  and  the  poet  knows  well 
that  a  little  time  will  do  more  than  the  most  puis 
sant  genius.  Time  stills  the  loud  noise  of  opinions, 
sinks  the  small,  raises  the  great,  so  that  the  true 
emerges  without  effort  and  in  perfect  harmony  to 
all  eyes  ;  but  the  truth  of  the  present  hour,  except 
in  particulars  and  single  relations,  is  unattainable. 
Each  man  can  very  well  know  his  own  part  of  duty, 
if  he  will ;  but  to  bring  out  the  truth  for  beauty, 
and  as  literature,  surmounts  the  powers  of  art. 
The  most  elaborate  history  of  to-day  will  have  the 
oddest  dislocated  look  in  the  next  generation.  The 
historian  of  to-day  is  yet  three  ages  off.  The  poet 
cannot  descend  into  the  turbid  present  without  in 
jury  to  his  rarest  gifts.  Hence  that  necessity  of 
isolation  which  genius  has  always  felt.  He  must 
stand  on  his  glass  tripod,  if  he  would  keep  his  elec 
tricity. 

But  when  the  political  aspects  are  so  calamitous 
that  the  sympathies  of  the  man  overpower  the  hab 
its  of  the  poet,  a  higher  than  literary  inspiration 
may  succor  him.  It  is  a  costly  proof  of  character, 
that  the  most  renowned  scholar  of  England  should 
take  his  reputation  in  his  hand  and  should  descend 
into  the  ring ;  and  he  has  added  to  his  love  what 
ever  honor  his  opinions  may  forfeit.  To  atone  for 


242  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

this  departure  from  the  vows  of  the  scholar  and  his 
eternal  duties  to  this  secular  charity,  we  have  at 
least  this  gain,  that  here  is  a  message  which  those 
to  whom  it  was  addressed  cannot  choose  but  hear. 
Though  they  die,  they  must  listen.  It  is  plain  that 
whether  by  hope  or  by  fear,  or  were  it  only  by  de 
light  in  this  panorama  of  brilliant  images,  all  the 
great  classes  of  English  society  must  read,  even 
those  whose  existence  it  proscribes.  Poor  Queen 
Victoria,  — poor  Sir  Robert  Peel,  poor  Primate  and 
Bishops,  —  poor  Dukes  and  Lords  !  There  is  no 
help  in  place  or  pride  or  in  looking  another  way ;  a 
grain  of  wit  is  more  penetrating  than  the  lightning 
of  the  night-storm,  which  no  curtains  or  shutters 
will  keep  out.  Here  is  a  book  which  will  be  read, 
no  thanks  to  anybody  but  itself.  What  pains,  what 
hopes,  what  vows,  shall  come  of  the  reading  ! 
Here  is  a  book  as  full  of  treason  as  an  egg  is  full 
of  meat,  and  every  lordship  and  worship  and  high 
form  and  ceremony  of  English  conservatism  tossed 
like  a  foot-ball  into  the  air,  and  kept  in  the  air, 
with  merciless  kicks  and  rebounds,  and  yet  not  a 
word  is  punishable  by  statute.  The  wit  has  eluded 
all  official  zeal;  and  yet  these  dire  jokes,  these 
cunning  thrusts,  this  flaming  sword  of  Cherubim 
waved  high  in  air,  illuminates  the  whole  horizon, 
and  shows  to  the  eyes  of  the  universe  every  wound 
it  inflicts.  Worst  of  all  for  the  party  attacked,  it 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.  243 

bereaves  them  beforehand  of  all  sympathy,  by  an 
ticipating  the  plea  of  poetic  and  humane  conserva 
tism,  and  impressing  the  reader  with  the  conviction 
that  the  satirist  himself  has  the  truest  love  for 
everything  old  and  excellent  in  English  land  and 
institutions,  and  a  genuine  respect  for  the  basis  of 
truth  in  those  whom  he  exposes. 

We  are  at  some  loss  how  to  state  what  strikes  us 
as  the  fault  of  this  remarkable  book,  for  the  vari 
ety  and  excellence  of  the  talent  displayed  in  it  is 
pretty  sure  to  leave  all  special  criticism  in  the 
wrong.  And  we  may  easily  fail  in  expressing  the 
general  objection  which  we  feel.  It  appears  to  us 
as  a  certain  disproportion  in  the  picture,  caused  by 
the  obtrusion  of  the  whims  of  the  painter.  In  this 
work,  as  in  his  former  labors,  Mr.  Carlyle  reminds 
us  of  a  sick  giant.  His  humors  are  expressed 
with  so  much  force  of  constitution  that  his  fancies 
are  more  attractive  and  more  credible  than  the  san 
ity  of  duller  men.  But  the  habitual  exaggeration 
of  the  tone  wearies  whilst  it  stimulates.  It  is  felt 
to  be  so  much  deduction  from  the  universality  of 
the  picture.  It  is  not  serene  sunshine,  but  every 
thing  is  seen  in  lurid  storm-lights.  Every  object 
attitudinizes,  to  the  very  mountains  and  stars  al 
most,  under  the  refraction  of  this  wonderful  humor 
ist  ;  and  instead  of  the  common  earth  and  sky,  we 
have  a  Martin's  Creation  or  Judgment  Day.  A 


244  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

crisis  has  always  arrived  which  requires  a  deus  ex 
machind.  One  can  hardly  credit,  whilst  under  the 
spell  of  this  magician,  that  the  world  always  had 
the  same  bankrupt  look,  to  foregoing  ages  as  to  us, 
—  as  of  a  failed  world  just  re-collecting  its  old 
withered  forces  to  begin  again  and  try  to  do  a  little 
business.  It  was  perhaps  inseparable  from  the  at 
tempt  to  write  a  book  of  wit  and  imagination  on 
English  politics,  that  a  certain  local  emphasis  and 
love  of  effect,  such  as  is  the  vice  of  preaching, 
should  appear,  —  producing  on  the  reader  a  feeling 
of  forlornness  by  the  excess  of  value  attributed  to 
circumstances.  But  the  splendor  of  wit  cannot 
outdazzle  the  calm  daylight,  which  always  shows 
every  individual  man  in  balance  with  his  age,  and 
able  to  work  out  his  own  salvation  from  all  the  fol 
lies  of  that,  and  no  such  glaring  contrasts  or  sever- 
alties  in  that  or  this.  Each  age  has  its  own  follies, 
as  its  majority  is  made  up  of  foolish  young  people ; 
its  superstitions  appear  no  superstitions  to  itself ; 
and  if  you  should  ask  the  contemporary,  he  would 
tell  you,  with  pride  or  with  regret,  (according  as 
he  was  practical  or  poetic),  that  he  had  none.  But 
after  a  short  time,  down  go  its  follies  and  weak 
ness  and  the  memory  of  them ;  its  virtues  alone 
remain,  and  its  limitation  assumes  the  poetic  form 
of  a  beautiful  superstition,  as  the  dimness  of  our 
sight  clothes  the  objects  in  the  horizon  with  mist 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.  245 

and  color.  The  revelation  of  Reason  is  this  of  the 
unchangeableness  of  the  fact  of  humanity  under  all 
its  subjective  aspects ;  that  to  the  cowering  it  al 
ways  cowers,  to  the  daring  it  opens  great  avenues. 
The  ancients  are  only  venerable  to  us  because  dis 
tance  has  destroyed  what  was  trivial ;  as  the  sun  and 
stars  affect  us  only  grandly,  because  we  cannot  reach 
to  their  smoke  and  surfaces  and  say,  Is  that  all  ? 

And  yet  the  gravity  of  the  times,  the  manifold 
and  increasing  dangers  of  the  English  State,  may 
easily  excuse  some  over-coloring  of  the  picture ;  and 
we  at  this  distance  are  not  so  far  removed  from 
any  of  the  specific  evils,  and  are  deeply  participant 
in  too  many,  not  to  share  the  gloom  and  thank  the 
love  and  the  courage  of  the  counsellor.  This  book 
is  full  of  humanity,  and  nothing  is  more  excellent 
in  this  as  in  all  Mr.  Carlyle's  works,  than  the  atti 
tude  of  the  writer.  He  has  the  dignity  of  a  man 
of  letters,  who  knows  what  belongs  to  him,  and 
never  deviates  from  his  sphere ;  a  continuer  of  the 
great  line  of  scholars,  he  sustains  their  office  in  the 
highest  credit  and  honor.  If  the  good  heaven  have 
any  good  word  to  impart  to  this  unworthy  genera 
tion,  here  is  one  scribe  qualified  and  clothed  for 
its  occasion.  One  excellence  he  has  in  an  age  of 
Mammon  and  of  criticism,  that  he  never  suffers 
the  eye  of  his  wonder  to  close.  Let  who  will  be  the 
dupe  of  trifles,  he  cannot  keep  his  eye  off  from 
that  gracious  Infinite  which  enbosoms  us. 


246  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

As  a  literary  artist  he  has  great  merits,  begin 
ning  with  the  main  one  that  he  never  wrote  one 
dull  line.  How  well-read,  how  adroit,  what  thou 
sand  arts  in  his  one  art  of  writing ;  with  his  expe 
dient  for  expressing  those  unproven  opinions  which 
he  entertains  but  will  not  endorse,  by  summoning 
one  of  his  men  of  straw  from  the  cell,  —  and  the  re 
spectable  Sauerteig,  or  Teuf  elsdrockh,  or  Dryasdust, 
or  Picturesque  Traveller,  says  what  is  put  into  his 
mouth,  and  disappears.  That  morbid  temperament 
has  given  his  rhetoric  a  somewhat  bloated  charac 
ter  ;  a  luxury  to  many  imaginative  and  learned 
persons,  like  a  showery  south-wind  with  its  sun 
bursts  and  rapid  chasing  of  lights  and  glooms  over 
the  landscape,  and  yet  its  offensiveness  to  multi 
tudes  of  reluctant  lovers  makes  us  often  wish  some 
concession  were  possible  on  the  part  of  the  humor 
ist.  Yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  in  all  his 
fun  of  castanets,  or  playing  of  tunes  with  a  whip 
lash  like  some  renowned  charioteers,  —  in  all  this 
glad  and  needful  venting  of  his  redundant  spirits, 
he  does  yet  ever  and  anon,  as  if  catching  the  glance 
of  one  wise  man  in  the  crowd,  quit  his  tempestuous 
key,  and  lance  at  him  in  clear  level  tone  the  very 
word,  and  then  with  new  glee  return  to  his  game. 
He  is  like  a  lover  or  an  outlaw  who  wraps  up  his 
message  in  a  serenade,  which  is  nonsense  to  the 
sentinel,  but  salvation  to  the  ear  for  which  it  is 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.  247 

meant.     He  does  not  dodge  the  question,  but  gives 
sincerity  where  it  is  due. 

One  word  more  respecting  this  remarkable  style. 
We  have  in  literature  few  specimens  of  magnifi 
cence.  Plato  is  the  purple  ancient,  and  Bacon  and 
Milton  the  moderns  of  the  richest  strains.  Burke 
sometimes  reaches  to  that  exuberant  fullness,  though 
deficient  in  depth.  Carlyle,  in  his  strange,  half- 
mad  way,  has  entered  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of 
Gold,  and  shown  a  vigor  and  wealth  of  resource 
which  has  no  rival  in  the  tourney-play  of  these 
times ;  —  the  indubitable  champion  of  England. 
Carlyle  is  the  first  domestication  of  the  modern 
system,  with  its  infinity  of  details,  into  style.  We 
have  been  civilizing  very  fast,  building  London 
and  Paris,  and  now  planting  New  England  and 
India,  New  Holland  and  Oregon,  —  and  it  has  not 
appeared  in  literature  ;  there  has  been  no  analogous 
expansion  and  recomposition  in  books.  Carlyle's 
style  is  the  first  emergence  of  all  this  wealth  and 
labor  with  which  the  world  has  gone  with  child  so 
long.  London  and  Europe,  tunnelled,  graded, 
corn-lawed,  with  trade-nobility,  and  East  and  West 
Indies  for  dependencies  ;  and  America,  with  the 
Eocky  Hills  in  the  horizon,  have  never  before  been 
conquered  in  literature.  This  is  the  first  invasion 
and  conquest.  How  like  an  air-balloon  or  bird  of 
Jove  does  he  seem  to  float  over  the  continent,  and 


248  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

stooping  here  and  there  pounce  on  a  fact  as  a  sym 
bol  which  was  never  a  symbol  before.  This  is  the 
first  experiment,  and  something  of  rudeness  and 
haste  must  be  pardoned  to  so  great  an  achievement. 
It  will  be  done  again  and  again,  sharper,  simpler ; 
but  fortunate  is  he  who  did  it  first,  though  never  so 
giant-like  and  fabulous.  This  grandiose  character 
pervades  his  wit  and  his  imagination.  We  have 
never  had  anything  in  literature  so  like  earthquakes 
as  the  laughter  of  Carlyle.  He  "  shakes  with  his 
mountain  mirth."  It  is  like  the  laughter  of  the 
Genii  in  the  horizon.  These  jokes  shake  down 
Parliament-house  and  Windsor  Castle,  Temple  and 
Tower,  and  the  future  shall  echo  the  dangerous 
peals.  The  other  particular  of  magnificence  is  in 
his  rhymes.  Carlyle  is  a  poet  who  is  altogether 
too  burly  in  his  frame  and  habit  to  submit  to  the 
limits  of  metre.  Yet  he  is  full  of  rhythm,  not  only 
in  the  perpetual  melody  of  his  periods,  but  in  the 
burdens,  refrains,  and  grand  returns  of  his  sense 
and  music.  Whatever  thought  or  motto  has  once 
appeared  to  him  fraught  with  meaning,  becomes  an 
omen  to  him  henceforward,  and  is  sure  to  return 
with  deeper  tones  and  weightier  import,  now  as 
threat,  now  as  confirmation,  in  gigantic  reverbera 
tion,  as  if  the  hills,  the  horizon,  and  the  next  ages 
returned  the  sound. 


A  LETTER.  249 

VII. 
A  LETTERS 

As  we  are  very  liable,  in  common  with  the 
letter-writing  world,  to  fall  behind -hand  in  our 
correspondence  ;  and  a  little  more  liable  because  in 
consequence  of  our  editorial  function  we  receive 
more  epistles  than  our  individual  share,  we  have 
thought  that  we  might  clear  our  account  by  writing 
a  quarterly  catholic  letter  to  all  and  several  who 
have  honored  us,  in  verse  or  prose,  with  their  confi 
dence,  and  expressed  a  curiosity  to  know  our  opin 
ion.  We  shall  be  compelled  to  dispose  very  rap 
idly  of  quite  miscellaneous  topics. 

And  first,  in  regard  to  the  writer  who  has  given 
us  his  speculations  on  Rail-roads  and  Air-roads,  our 
correspondent  shall  have  his  own  way.  To  the  rail 
way,  we  must  say,  —  like  the  courageous  lord  mayor 
at  his  first  hunting,  when  told  the  hare  was  com 
ing,  —  "  Let  it  come,  in  Heaven's  name,  I  am  not 
afraid  on't.  "  Very  unlooked-for  political  and  so 
cial  effects  of  the  iron  road  are  fast  appearing.  It 
will  require  an  expansion  of  the  police  of  the  old 
world.  When  a  rail-road  train  shoots  through  Eu 
rope  every  day  from  Brussels  to  Vienna,  from 
Vienna  to  Constantinople,  it  cannot  stop  every 
1  The  Dial,  vol.  iv.  p.  262. 


250  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

twenty  or  thirty  miles  at  a  German  custom-house, 
for  examination  of  property  and  passports.  But 
when  our  correspondent  proceeds  to  flying-machines, 
we  have  no  longer  the  smallest  taper-light  of  credi 
ble  information  and  experience  left,  and  must  speak 
on  a  priori  grounds. 

Shortly  then,  we  think  the  population  is  not  yet 
quite  fit  for  them,  and  therefore  there  will  be 
none.  Our  friend  suggests  so  many  inconveniences 
from  piracy  out  of  the  high  air  to  orchards  and 
lone  houses,  and  also  to  other  high  fliers ;  and 
the  total  inadequacy  of  the  present  system  of  de 
fence,  that  we  have  not  the  heart  to  break  the 
sleep  of  the  good  public  by  the  repetition  of  these 
details.  When  children  come  into  the  library, 
we  put  the  inkstand  and  the  watch  on  the  high 
shelf  until  they  be  a  little  older ;  and  Nature  has 
set  the  sun  and  moon  in  plain  sight  and  use,  but 
laid  them  on  the  high  shelf  where  her  roystering 
boys  may  not  in  some  mad  Saturday  afternoon 
pull  them  down  or  burn  their  fingers.  The  sea 
and  the  iron  road  are  safer  toys  for  such  ungrown 
people  ;  we  are  not  yet  ripe  to  be  birds. 

In  the  next  place,  to  fifteen  letters  on  Communi 
ties,  and  the  Prospects  of  Culture,  and  the  destin 
ies  of  the  cultivated  class,  —  what  answer  ?  Excel 
lent  reasons  have  been  shown  us  why  the  writers, 
obviously  persons  of  sincerity  and  elegance,  should 


A  LETTER.  251 

be  dissatisfied  with  the  life  they  lead,  and  with 
their  company.  They  have  exhausted  all  its  bene 
fit,  and  will  not  bear  it  much  longer.  Excellent 
reasons  they  have  shown  why  something  better 
should  be  tried.  They  want  a  friend  to  whom  they 
can  speak  and  from  whom  they  may  hear  now  and 
then  a  reasonable  word.  They  are  willing  to  work, 
so  it  be  with  friends.  They  do  not  entertain  any 
thing  absurd  or  even  difficult.  They  do  not  wish 
to  force  society  into  hated  reforms,  nor  to  break 
with  society.  They  do  not  wish  a  township,  or 
any  large  expenditure,  or  incorporated  association, 
but  simply  a  concentration  of  chosen  people.  By 
the  slightest  possible  concert,  persevered  in  through 
four  or  five  years,  they  think  that  a  neighborhood 
might  be  formed  of  friends  who  would  provoke 
each  other  to  the  best  activity.  They  believe  that 
this  society  would  fill  up  the  terrific  chasm  of  ennui, 
and  would  give  their  genius  that  inspiration  which 
it  seems  to  wait  in  vain. 

But,  '  the  selfishness !  '  One  of  the  writers 
relentingly  says,  "  What  shall  my  uncles  and  aunts 
do  without  me?  "  and  desires  distinctly  to  be  under 
stood  not  to  propose  the  Indian  mode  of  giving 
decrepit  relatives  as  much  of  the  mud  of  holy 
Ganges  as  they  can  swallow,  and  more,  but  to  be 
gin  the  enterprise  of  concentration  by  concentrating 
all  uncles  and  aunts  in  one  delightful  village  by 


252  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

themselves !  —  so  heedless  is  our  correspondent  of 
putting  all  the  dough  into  one  pan,  and  all  the 
leaven  into  another.  Another  objection  seems  to 
have  occurred  to  a  subtle  but  ardent  advocate.  Is 
it,  he  writes,  a  too  great  wilfulness  and  intermed 
dling  with  life,  —  with  life,  which  is  better  accepted 
than  calculated?  Perhaps  so;  but  let  us  not  be 
too  curiously  good.  The  Buddhist  is  a  practical 
Necessitarian  ;  the  Yankee  is  not.  We  do  a  great 
many  selfish  things  every  day  ;  among  them  all  let 
us  do  one  thing  of  enlightened  selfishness.  It  were 
fit  to  forbid  concert  and  calculation  in  this  particu 
lar,  if  that  were  our  system,  if  we  were  up  to  the 
mark  of  self-denial  and  faith  in  our  general  activity. 
But  to  be  prudent  in  all  the  particulars  of  life,  and 
in  this  one  thing  alone  religiously  forbearing ;  pru 
dent  to  secure  to  ourselves  an  injurious  society, 
temptations  to  folly  and  despair,  degrading  exam 
ples,  and  enemies ;  and  only  abstinent  when  it  is 
proposed  to  provide  ourselves  with  guides,  examples, 
lovers ! 

We  shall  hardly  trust  ourselves  to  reply  to  argu 
ments  by  which  we  would  too  gladly  be  persuaded. 
The  more  discontent,  the  better  we  like  it.  It  is 
not  for  nothing,  we  assure  ourselves,  that  our  people 
are  busied  with  these  projects  of  a  better  social 
state,  and  that  sincere  persons  of  all  parties  are  de 
manding  somewhat  vital  and  poetic  of  our  stagnant 


A  LETTER.  253 

society.  How  fantastic  and  unpresentable  soever 
the  theory  has  hitherto  seemed,  how  swiftly  shrink 
ing  from  the  examination  of  practical  men,  let  us 
not  lose  the  warning  of  that  most  significant  dream. 
How  joyfully  we  have  felt  the  admonition  of  larger 
natures  which  despised  our  aims  and  pursuits,  con 
scious  that  a  voice  out  of  heaven  spoke  to  us  in 
that  scorn.  But  it  would  be  unjust  not  to  remind 
our  younger  friends  that  whilst  this  aspiration  has 
always  made  its  mark  in  the  lives  of  men  of 
thought,  in  vigorous  individuals  it  does  not  remain 
a  detached  object,  but  is  satisfied  along  with  the 
satisfaction  of  other  aims.  To  live  solitary  and 
unexpressed,  is  painful,  —  painful  in  proportion  to 
one's  consciousness  of  ripeness  and  equality  to  the 
offices  of  friendship.  But  herein  we  are  never 
quite  forsaken  by  the  Divine  Providence.  The 
loneliest  man,  after  twenty  years,  discovers  that  he 
stood  in  a  circle  of  friends,  who  will  then  show  like 
a  close  fraternity  held  by  some  masonic  tie.  But 
we  are  impatient  of  the  tedious  introductions  of 
Destiny,  and  a  little  faithless,  and  would  venture 
something  to  accelerate  them.  One  thing  is  plain, 
that  discontent  and  the  luxury  of  tears  will  bring 
nothing  to  pass.  Regrets  and  Bohemian  castles 
and  aBsthetic  villages  are  not  a  very  self-helping 
class  of  productions,  but  are  the  voices  of  debility. 
Especially  to  one  importunate  correspondent  we 


254  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

must  say  that  there  is  no  chance  for  the  aesthetic 
village.  Every  one  of  the  villagers  has  committed 
his  several  blunder ;  his  genius  was  good,  his  stars 
consenting,  but  he  was  a  marplot.  And  though 
the  recuperative  force  in  every  man  may  be  relied 
on  infinitely,  it  must  be  relied  on  before  it  will 
exert  itself.  As  long  as  he  sleeps  in  the  shade  of 
the  present  error,  the  after-nature  does  not  betray 
its  resources.  Whilst  he  dwells  in  the  old  sin,  he 
will  pay  the  old  fine. 

More  letters  we  have  on  the  subject  of  the  posi 
tion  of  young  men,  which  accord  well  enough  with 
what  we  see  and  hear.  There  is  an  American  dis 
ease,  a  paralysis  of  the  active  faculties,  which  falls 
on  young  men  of  this  country  as  soon  as  they 
have  finished  their  college  education,  which  strips 
them  of  all  manly  aims  and  bereaves  them  of  ani 
mal  spirits  ;  so  that  the  noblest  youths  are  in  a  few 
years  converted  into  pale  Caryatides  to  uphold  the 
temple  of  conventions.  They  are  in  the  state  of 
the  young  Persians,  when  "that  mighty  Yezdam 
prophet"  addressed  them  and  said,  "Behold  the 
signs  of  evil  days  are  come  ;  there  is  now  no  longer 
any  right  course  of  action,  nor  any  self-devotion  left 
among  the  Iranis."  As  soon  as  they  have  arrived 
at  this  term,  there  are  no  employments  to  satisfy 
them,  they  are  educated  above  the  work  of  their 
times  and  country,  and  disdain  it.  Many  of  the 


A  LETTER.  255 

more  acute  minds  pass  into  a  lofty  criticism  of  these 
things,  which  only  embitters  their  sensibility  to  the 
evil  and  widens  the  feeling  of  hostility  between 
them  and  the  citizens  at  large.  From  this  cause, 
companies  of  the  best-educated  young  men  in  the 
Atlantic  states  every  week  take  their  departure  for 
Europe ;  for  no  business  that  they  have  in  that  coun 
try,  but  simply  because  they  shall  so  be  hid  from 
the  reproachful  eyes  of  their  countrymen  and  agree 
ably  entertained  for  one  or  two  years,  with  some 
lurking  hope,  no  doubt,  that  something  may  turn 
up  to  give  them  a  decided  direction.  It  is  easy  to 
see  that  this  is  only  a  postponement  of  their  proper 
work,  with  the  additional  disadvantage  of  a  two 
years'  vacation.  Add  that  this  class  is  rapidly  in 
creasing  by  the  infatuation  of  the  active  class,  who, 
whilst  they  regard  these  young  Athenians  with  sus 
picion  and  dislike,  educate  their  own  children  in 
the  same  courses,  and  use  all  possible  endeavors  to 
secure  to  them  the  same  result. 

Certainly  we  are  not  insensible  to  this  calamity, 
as  described  by  the  observers  or  witnessed  by  our 
selves.  It  is  not  quite  new  and  peculiar;  though 
we  should  not  know  where  to  find  in  literature  any 
record  of  so  much  unbalanced  intellectuality,  such 
undeniable  apprehension  without  talent,  so  much 
power  without  equal  applicability,  as  our  young 
men  pretend  to.  Yet  in  Theodore  Mundt's  account 


256  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

of  Frederic  Holderlin's  "  Hyperion,"  we  were  not 
a  little  struck  with  the  following  Jeremiad  of  the 
despair  of  Germany,  whose  tone  is  still  so  familiar 
that  we  were  somewhat  mortified  to  find  that  it  was 
written  in  1799.  "  Then  came  I  to  the  Germans. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  a  people  more  disjoined  than 
the  Germans.  Mechanics  you  shall  see,  but  no  man. 
Is  it  not  like  some  battle-field,  where  hands  and 
arms  and  all  members  lie  scattered  about,  whilst 
the  life-blood  runs  away  into  the  sand  ?  Let  every 
man  mind  his  own,  you  say,  and  I  say  the  same. 
Only  let  him  mind  it  with  all  his  heart,  and  not 
with  this  cold  study,  literally,  hypocritically,  to  ap 
pear  that  which  he  passes  for,  —  but  in  good  ear 
nest,  and  in  all  love,  let  him  be  that  which  he  is ; 
then  there  is  a  soul  in  his  deed.  And  is  he  driven 
into  a  circumstance  where  the  spirit  must  not  live  ? 
Let  him  thrust  it  from  him  with  scorn,  and  learn 
to  dig  and  plough.  There  is  nothing  holy  which  is 
not  desecrated,  which  is  not  degraded  to  a  mean  end 
among  this  people.  It  is  heartrending  to  see  your 
poet,  your  artist,  and  all  who  still  revere  genius, 
who  love  and  foster  the  Beautiful.  The  Good ! 
They  live  in  the  world  as  strangers  in  their  own 
house ;  they  are  like  the  patient  Ulysses  whilst  he 
eat  in  the  guise  of  a  beggar  at  his  own  door,  whilst 
shameless  rioters  shouted  in  the  hall  and  asked, 
Who  brought  the  ragamuffin  here  ?  Full  of  love, 


A  LETTER.  257 

talent  and  hope,  spring  up  the  darlings  of  the  muse 
among  the  Germans ;  some  seven  years  later,  and 
they  flit  about  like  ghosts,  cold  and  silent ;  they  are 
like  a  soil  which  an  enemy  has  sown  with  poison, 
that  it  will  not  bear  a  blade  of  grass.  On  earth  all 
is  imperfect !  is  the  old  proverb  of  the  German. 
Aye,  but  if  one  should  say  to  these  God-forsaken, 
that  with  them  all  is  imperfect  only  because  they 
leave  nothing  pure  which  they  do  not  pollute,  noth 
ing  holy  which  they  do  not  defile  with  their  fum 
bling  hands ;  that  with  them  nothing  prospers  be 
cause  the  godlike  nature  which  is  the  root  of  all 
prosperity  they  do  not  revere ;  that  with  them,  truly, 
life  is  shallow  and  anxious  and  full  of  discord,  be 
cause  they  despise  genius,  which  brings  power  and 
nobleness  into  manly  action,  cheerfulness  into  en 
durance,  and  love  and  brotherhood  into  towns  and 
houses.  Where  a  people  honors  genius  in  its  ar 
tists,  there  breathes  like  an  atmosphere  a  universal 
soul,  to  which  the  shy  sensibility  opens,  which  melts 
self-conceit,  —  all  hearts  become  pious  and  great, 
and  it  adds  fire  to  heroes.  The  home  of  all  men  is 
with  such  a  people,  and  there  will  the  stranger  glad 
ly  abide.  But  where  the  divine  nature  and  the  ar 
tist  is  crushed,  the  sweetness  of  life  is  gone,  and 
every  other  planet  is  better  than  the  earth.  Men 
deteriorate,  folly  increases,  and  a  gross  mind  with 
it ;  drunkenness  comes  with  a  disaster ;  with  the 


258  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

wantonness  of  the  tongue  and  with  the  anxiety  for 
a  livelihood  the  blessing  of  every  year  becomes  a 
curse,  and  all  the  gods  depart." 

The  steep  antagonism  between  the  money-getting 
and  the  academic  class  must  be  freely  admitted,  and 
perhaps  is  the  more  violent,  that  whilst  our  work  is 
imposed  by  the  soil  and  the  sea,  our  culture  is  the 
tradition  of  Europe.  But  we  cannot  share  the  des 
peration  of  our  contemporaries  ;  least  of  all  should 
we  think  a  preternatural  enlargement  of  the  intel 
lect  a  calamity.  A  new  perception,  the  smallest  new 
activity  given  to  the  perceptive  power,  is  a  victory 
won  to  the  living  universe  from  Chaos  and  old 
Night,  and  cheaply  bought  by  any  amounts  of  hard 
fare  and  false  social  position.  The  balance  of  mind 
and  body  will  redress  itself  fast  enough.  Super- 
ficialness  is  the  real  distemper.  In  all  the  cases  we 
have  ever  seen  where  people  were  supposed  to  suf 
fer  from  too  much  wit,  or,  as  men  said,  from  a  blade 
too  sharp  for  the  scabbard,  it  turned  out  that  they 
had  not  wit  enough.  It  may  easily  happen  that  we 
are  grown  very  idle,  and  must  go  to  work,  and  that 
the  times  must  be  worse  before  they  are  better.  It 
is  very  certain  that  speculation  is  no  succedaneum 
for  life.  What  we  would  know,  we  must  do.  As 
if  any  taste  or  imagination  could  take  the  place  of 
fidelity !  The  old  Duty  is  the  old  God.  And  we 
may  come  to  this  by  the  rudest  teaching.  A  friend 


A  LETTER.  259 

of  ours  went  five  years  ago  to  Illinois  to  buy  a  farm 
for  his  son.  Though  there  were  crowds  of  emi 
grants  in  the  roads,  the  country  was  open  on  both 
sides,  and  long  intervals  between  hamlets  and  houses. 
Now  after  five  years  he  had  just  been  to  visit  the 
young  farmer  and  see  how  he  prospered,  and  reports 
that  a  miracle  had  been  wrought.  From  Massachu 
setts  to  Illinois  the  land  is  fenced  in  and  builded 
over,  almost  like  New  England  itself,  and  the  proofs 
of  thrifty  cultivation  abound ;  —  a  result  not  so 
much  owing  to  the  natural  increase  of  population, 
as  to  the  hard  times,  which,  driving  men  out  of 
cities  and  trade,  forced  them  to  take  off  their  coats 
and  go  to  work  on  the  land ;  which  has  rewarded 
them  not  only  with  wheat  but  with  habits  of  labor. 
Perhaps  the  adversities  of  our  commerce  have  not 
yet  been  pushed  to  the  wholes  omest  degree  of  sever 
ity.  Apathies  and  total  want  of  work,  and  reflec 
tion  on  the  imaginative  character  of  American  life, 
etc.,  etc.,  are  like  seasickness,  and  never  will  obtain 
any  sympathy  if  there  is  a  wood-pile  in  the  yard,  or 
an  unweeded  patch  in  the  garden ;  not  to  mention 
the  graver  absurdity  of  a  youth  of  noble  aims  who 
can  find  no  field  for  his  energies,  whilst  the  colossal 
wrongs  of  the  Indian,  of  the  Negro,  of  the  emigrant, 
remain  unmitigated,  and  the  religious,  civil  and 
judicial  forms  of  the  country  are  confessedly  effete 
and  offensive.  We  must  refer  our  clients  back  to 


260  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

themselves,  believing  that  every  man  knows  in  his 
heart  the  cure  for  the  disease  he  so  ostentatiously 
bewails. 

As  far  as  our  correspondents  have  entangled  their 
private  griefs  with  the  cause  of  American  Literature, 
we  counsel  them  to  disengage  themselves  as  fast  as 
possible.  In  Cambridge  orations  and  elsewhere 
there  is  much  inquiry  for  that  great  absentee  Amer 
ican  Literature.  What  can  have  become  of  it? 
The  least  said  is  best.  A  literature  is  no  man's 
private  concern,  but  a  secular  and  generic  result, 
and  is  the  affair  of  a  power  which  works  by  a  prod 
igality  of  life  and  force  very  dismaying  to  behold, 
—  every  trait  of  beauty  purchased  by  hecatombs  of 
private  tragedy.  The  pruning  in  the  wild  gardens 
of  nature  is  never  forborne.  Many  of  the  best 
must  die  of  consumption,  many  of  despair,  and 
many  be  stupid  and  insane,  before  the  one  great  and 
fortunate  life  which  they  each  predicted  can  shoot 
up  into  a  thrifty  and  beneficent  existence. 

VIII. 

THE  TRAGIC.i 

HE  has  seen  but  half  the  universe  who  never  has 
been  shewn  the  house  of  Pain.      As  the  salt  sea 

1  From  the  course   on  "  Human  Life,"  read  in  Boston, 
1839-40.     Published  in  The  Dial,  vol.  iv.  p.  515. 


THE  TRAGIC.  261 

covers  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  surface  of  the 
globe,  so  sorrow  encroaches  in  man  on  felicity. 
The  conversation  of  men  is  a  mixture  of  regrets 
and  apprehensions.  I  do  not  know  but  the  preva 
lent  hue  of  things  to  the  eye  of  leisure  is  melan 
choly.  In  the  dark  hours,  our  existence  seems  to 
be  a  defensive  war,  a  struggle  against  the  encroach 
ing  All,  which  threatens  surely  to  engulf  us  soon, 
and  is  impatient  of  our  short  reprieve.  How  slen 
der  the  possession  that  yet  remains  to  us;  how 
faint  the  animation  !  how  the  spirit  seems  already 
to  contract  its  domain,  retiring  within  narrower 
walls  by  the  loss  of  memory,  leaving  its  planted 
fields  to  erasure  and  annihilation.  Already  our 
own  thoughts  and  words  have  an  alien  sound. 
There  is  a  simultaneous  diminution  of  memory  and 
hope.  Projects  that  once  we  laughed  and  leapt  to 
execute,  find  us  now  sleepy  and  preparing  to  lie 
down  in  the  snow.  And  in  the  serene  hours  we 
have  no  courage  to  spare.  We  cannot  afford  to  let 
go  any  advantages.  The  riches  of  body  or  of  mind 
which  we  do  not  need  to-day,  are  the  reserved  fund 
against  the  calamity  that  may  arrive  to-morrow.  It 
is  usually  agreed  that  some  nations  have  a  more 
sombre  temperament,  and  one  would  say  that  his 
tory  gave  no  record  01  any  society  in  which  de 
spondency  came  so  readily  to  heart  as  we  see  it  and 
feel  it  in  ours.  Melancholy  cleaves  to  the  English 


262  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

mind  in  both  hemispheres  as  closely  as  to  the 
strings  of  an  ^Eolian  harp.  Men  and  women  at 
thirty  years,  and  even  earlier,  have  lost  all  spring 
and  vivacity,  and  if  they  fail  in  their  first  eiiter- 
prizes  they  throw  up  the  game.  But  whether  we 
and  those  who  are  next  to  us  are  more  or  less  vul 
nerable,  no  theory  of  life  can  have  any  right  which 
leaves  out  of  account  the  values  of  vice,  pain, 
disease,  poverty,  insecurity,  disunion,  fear  and 
death. 

What  are  the  conspicuous  tragic  elements  in  hu 
man  nature  ?  The  bitterest  tragic  element  in  life  to 
be  derived  from  an  intellectual  source  is  the  belief 
in  a  brute  Fate  or  Destiny ;  the  belief  that  the 
order  of  nature  and  events  is  controlled  by  a  law 
not  adapted  to  man,  nor  man  to  that,  but  which 
holds  on  its  way  to  the  end,  serving  him  if  his 
wishes  chance  to  lie  in  the  same  course,  crushing 
him  if  his  wishes  lie  contrary  to  it,  and  heedless 
whether  it  serves  or  crushes  him.  This  is  the 
terrible  meaning  that  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the 
old  Greek  tragedy,  and  makes  the  CEdipus  and 
Antigone  and  Orestes  objects  of  such  hopeless  com 
miseration.  They  must  perish,  and  there  is  no  over- 
god  to  stop  or  to  mollify  this  hideous  enginery  that 
grinds  or  thunders,  and  snatches  them  up  into  its 
terrific  system.  The  same  idea  makes  the  paralyz 
ing  terror  with  which  the  East  Indian  mythology 


THE  TRAGIC.  263 

haunts  the  imagination.  The  same  thought  is  the 
predestination  of  the  Turk.  And  universally,  in 
uneducated  and  unreflecting  persons  on  whom  too 
the  religious  sentiment  exerts  little  force,  we  dis 
cover  traits  of  the  same  superstition :  "  If  you 
baulk  water  you  will  be  drowned  the  next  time  ;  " 
"  if  you  count  ten  stars  you  will  fall  down  dead  ;  " 
"  if  you  spill  the  salt ; "  "  if  your  fork  sticks  up 
right  in  the  floor  ;  "  "if  you  say  the  Lord's  prayer 
backwards  ;  "  —  and  so  on,  a  several  penalty,  nowise 
grounded  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  but  on  an  arbi 
trary  will.  But  this  terror  of  contravening  an  un 
ascertained  and  unascertainable  will,  cannot  co-exist 
with  reflection :  it  disappears  with  civilization,  and 
can  no  more  be  reproduced  than  the  fear  of  ghosts 
after  childhood.  It  is  discriminated  from  the  doc 
trine  of  Philosophical  Necessity  herein  :  that  the 
last  is  an  Optimism,  and  therefore  the  suffering 
individual  finds  his  good  consulted  in  the  good  of 
all,  of  which  he  is  a  part.  But  in  destiny,  it  is  not 
the  good  of  the  whole  or  the  best  will  that  is  en 
acted,  but  only  one  particular  will.  Destiny  prop 
erly  is  not  a  will  at  all,  but  an  immense  whim ; 
and  this  the  only  ground  of  terror  and  despair  in 
the  rational  mind,  and  of  tragedy  in  literature. 
Hence  the  antique  tragedy,  which  was  founded  on 
this  faith,  can  never  be  reproduced. 

After  reason  and  faith  have  introduced  a  better 


264  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

public  and  private  tradition,  the  tragic  element  is 
somewhat  circumscribed.  There  must  always  re 
main,  however,  the  hindrance  of  our  private  satis 
faction  by  the  laws  of  the  world.  The  law  which 
establishes  nature  and  the  human  race,  continually 
thwarts  the  will  of  ignorant  individuals,  and  this  in 
the  particulars  of  disease,  want,  insecurity  and  dis 
union. 

But  the  essence  of  tragedy  does  not  seem  to  me 
to  lie  in  any  list  of  particular  evils.  After  we  have 
enumerated  famine,  fever,  inaptitude,  mutilation, 
rack,  madness  and  loss  of  friends,  we  have  not  yet 
included  the  proper  tragic  element,  which  is  Terror, 
and  which  does  not  respect  definite  evils  but  indefi 
nite  ;  an  ominous  spirit  which  haunts  the  after 
noon  and  the  night,  idleness  and  solitude. 

A  low,  haggard  sprite  sits  by  our  side,  "  casting 
the  fashion  of  uncertain  evils  "  —  a  sinister  present 
iment,  a  power  of  the  imagination  to  dislocate 
things  orderly  and  cheerful  and  show  them  in  start 
ling  array.  Hark !  what  sounds  on  the  night  wind, 
the  cry  of  Murder  in  that  friendly  house  ;  see  these 
marks  of  stamping  feet,  of  hidden  riot.  The  whis 
per  overheard,  the  detected  glance,  the  glare  of 
malignity,  ungrounded  fears,  suspicions,  half -knowl 
edge  and  mistakes,  darken  the  brow  and  chill  the 
heart  of  men.  And  accordingly  it  is  natures  not 
clear,  not  of  quick  and  steady  perceptions,  but  im- 


THE  TRAGIC.  265 

perfect  characters  from  which  somewhat  is  hidden 
that  all  others  see,  who  suffer  most  from  these 
causes.  In  those  persons  who  move  the  profoundest 
pity,  tragedy  seems  to  consist  in  temperament,  not 
in  events,  There  are  people  who  have  an  appetite 
for  grief,  pleasure  is  not  strong  enough  and  they 
crave  pain,  mithridatic  stomachs  which  must  be  fed 
on  poisoned  bread,  natures  so  doomed  that  no  pros 
perity  can  soothe  their  ragged  and  dishevelled  des 
olation.  They  mis-hear  and  mis-behold,  they  sus 
pect  and  dread.  They  handle  every  nettle  and  ivy 
in  the  hedge,  and  tread  on  every  snake  in  the 
meadow. 

"  Come  bad  chance, 
And  we  add  to  it  our  strength, 
And  we  teach  it  art  and  length, 
Itself  o'er  us  to  advance." 

Frankly,  then,  it  is  necessary  to  say  that  all 
sorrow  dwells  in  a  low  region.  It  is  superficial ; 
for  the  most  part  fantastic,  or  in  the  appearance 
and  not  in  things.  Tragedy  is  in  the  eye  of  the 
observer,  and  not  in  the  heart  of  the  sufferer. 
It  looks  like  an  insupportable  load  under  which 
earth  moans  aloud.  But  analyze  it ;  it  is  not  I, 
it  is  not  you,  it  is  always  another  person  who  is 
tormented.  If  a  man  says,  Lo!  I  suffer  —  it  is 
apparent  that  he  suffers  not,  for  grief  is  dumb. 
It  is  so  distributed  as  not  to  destroy.  That 


266  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL, 

which  would  rend  you  falls  on  tougher  textures. 
That  which  seems  intolerable  reproach  or  bereave 
ment,  does  not  take  from  the  accused  or  bereaved 
man  or  woman  appetite  or  sleep.  Some  men  are 
above  grief,  and  some  below  it.  Few  are  capa 
ble  of  love.  In  phlegmatic  natures  calamity  is 
unaffecting,  in  shallow  natures  it  is  rhetorical. 
Tragedy  must  be  somewhat  which  I  can  respect. 
A  querulous  habit  is  not  tragedy.  A  panic  such 
as  frequently  in  ancient  or  savage  nations  put  a 
troop  or  an  army  to  flight  without  an  enemy ;  a 
fear  of  ghosts ;  a  terror  of  freezing  to  death  that 
seizes  a  man  in  a  winter  midnight  on  the  moors ; 
a  fright  at  uncertain  sounds  heard  by  a  family  at 
night  in  the  cellar  or  on  the  stairs,  —  are  terrors 
that  make  the  knees  knock  and  the  teeth  clatter, 
but  are  no  tragedy,  any  more  than  seasickness, 
which  may  also  destroy  life.  It  is  full  of  illusion. 
As  it  comes,  it  has  its  support.  The  most  exposed 
classes,  soldiers,  sailors,  paupers,  are  nowise  desti 
tute  of  animal  spirits.  The  spirit  is  true  to  it 
self,  and  finds  its  own  support  in  any  condition, 
learns  to  live  in  what  is  called  calamity  as  easily 
as  in  what  is  called  felicity ;  as  the  frailest  glass- 
bell  will  support  a  weight  of  a  thousand  pounds  of 
water  at  the  bottom  of  a  river  or  sea,  if  filled  with 
the  same. 

A  man   should   not  commit   his   tranquillity  to 


THE  TRAGIC.  267 

things,  but  should  keep  as  much  as  possible  the 
reins  in  his  own  hands,  rarely  giving  way  to  ex 
treme  emotion  of  joy  or  grief.  It  is  observed 
that  the  earliest  works  of  the  art  of  sculpture 
are  countenances  of  sublime  tranquillity.  The 
Egyptian  sphinxes,  which  sit  to-day  as  they  sat 
when  the  Greek  came  and  saw  them  and  departed, 
and  when  the  Roman  came  and  saw  them  and 
departed,  and  as  they  will  still  sit  when  the  Turk, 
the  Frenchman  and  the  Englishman,  who  visit 
them  now,  shall  have  passed  by,  —  "  with  their 
stony  eyes  fixed  on  the  East  and  on  the  Nile,"  have 
countenances  expressive  of  complacency  and  repose^ 
an  expression  of  health,  deserving  their  longevity, 
and  verifying  the  primeval  sentence  of  history  on 
the  permanency  of  that  people,  "  Their  strength  is 
to  sit  still."  To  this  architectural  stability  of  the 
human  form,  the  Greek  genius  added  an  ideal 
beauty,  without  disturbing  the  seals  of  serenity  ; 
permitting  no  violence  of  mirth,  or  wrath,  or 
suffering.  This  was  true  to  human  nature.  For, 
in  life,  actions  are  few,  opinions  even  few,  prayers 
few  ;  loves,  hatreds,  or  any  emissions  of  the  soul. 
All  that  life  demands  of  us  through  the  greater 
part  of  the  day,  is  an  equilibrium,  a  readiness, 
open  eyes  and  ears,  and  free  hands.  Society 
asks  this,  and  truth,  and  love,  and  the  genius  of 
our  life.  There  is  a  fire  in  some  men  which  de- 


268  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

mands  an  outlet  in  some  rude  action ;  they  betray 
their  impatience  of  quiet  by  an  irregular  Catali- 
narian  gait ;  by  irregular,  faltering,  disturbed 
speech,  too  emphatic  for  the  occasion.  They  treat 
trifles  with  a  tragic  air.  This  is  not  beautiful. 
Could  they  not  lay  a  rod  or  two  of  stone  wall, 
and  work  off  this  superabundant  irritability? 
When  two  strangers  meet  in  the  highway,  what 
each  demands  of  the  other  is  that  the  aspect 
should  shew  a  firm  mind,  ready  for  any  event  of 
good  or  ill,  prepared  alike  to  give  death  or  to 
give  life,  as  the  emergency  of  the  next  moment 
may  require.  We  must  walk  as  guests  in  nature ; 
not  impassioned,  but  cool  and  disengaged.  A 
man  should  try  Time,  and  his  face  should  wear 
the  expression  of  a  just  judge,  who  has  nowise 
made  up  his  opinion,  who  fears  nothing,  and  even 
hopes  nothing,  but  who  puts  nature  and  fortune 
on  their  merits:  he  will  hear  the  case  out,  and 
then  decide.  For  all  melancholy,  as  all  passion, 
belongs  to  the  exterior  life.  Whilst  a  man  is 
not  grounded  in  the  divine  life  by  his  proper 
roots,  he  clings  by  some  tendrils  of  affection  to 
society  —  mayhap  to  what  is  best  and  greatest  in 
it,  and  in  calm  times  it  will  not  appear  that  he 
is  adrift  and  not  moored ;  but  let  any  shock  take 
place  in  society,  any  revolution  of  custom,  of  law, 
of  opinion,  and  at  once  his  type  of  permanence 


THE  TRAGIC.  269 

is  shaken.  The  disorder  of  his  neighbors  ap 
pears  to  him  universal  disorder ;  chaos  is  come 
again.  But  in  truth  he  was  already  a  driving 
wreck,  before  the  wind  arose  which  only  revealed 
to  him  his  vagabond  state.  If  a  man  is  centred, 
men  and  events  appear  to  him  a  fair  image  or 
reflection  of  that  which  he  knoweth  beforehand 
in  himself.  If  any  perversity  or  profligacy  break 
out  in  society,  he  will  join  with  others  to  avert 
the  mischief,  but  it  will  not  arouse  resentment 
or  fear,  because  he  discerns  its  impassable  limits. 
He  sees  already  in  the  ebullition  of  sin  the  simul 
taneous  redress. 

Particular  reliefs  also,  fit  themselves  to  human 
calamities ;  for  the  world  will  be  in  equilibrium, 
and  hates  all  manner  of  exaggeration. 

Time,  the  consoler,  Time,  the  rich  carrier  of  all 
changes,  dries  the  freshest  tears  by  obtruding  new 
figures,  new  costumes,  new  roads,  on  our  eye,  new 
voices  011  our  ear.  As  the  west  wind  lifts  up 
again  the  heads  of  the  wheat  which  were  bent 
down  and  lodged  in  the  storm,  and  combs  out 
the  matted  and  dishevelled  grass  as  it  lay  in 
night-locks  on  the  ground,  so  we  let  in  time  as  a 
drying  wind  into  the  seed-field  of  thoughts  which 
are  dark  and  wet  and  low  bent.  Time  restores 
to  them  temper  and  elasticity.  How  fast  we  for 
get  the  blow  that  threatened  to  cripple  us.  Na- 


270  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

ture  will  not  sit  still ;  the  faculties  will  do  some 
what;  new  hopes  spring,  new  affections  twine  and 
the  broken  is  whole  again. 

Time  consoles,  but  Temperament  resists  the 
impression  of  pain.  Nature  proportions  her  de 
fence  to  the  assault.  Our  human  being  is  won 
derfully  plastic  ;  if  it  cannot  win  this  satisfaction 
here,  it  makes  itself  amends  by  running  out  there 
and  winning  that.  It  is  like  a  stream  of  water, 
which  if  dammed  up  on  one  bank,  overruns  the 
other,  and  flows  equally  at  its  own  convenience 
over  sand,  or  mud,  or  marble.  Most  suffering  is 
only  apparent.  We  fancy  it  is  torture  ;  the  patient 
has  his  own  compensations.  A  tender  American 
girl  doubts  of  Divine  Providence  whilst  she  reads 
the  horrors  of  "  the  middle  passage ; "  and  they 
are  bad  enough  at  the  mildest ;  but  to  such  as 
she  these  crucifixions  do  not  come  :  they  come  to 
the  obtuse  and  barbarous,  to  whom  they  are  not 
horrid,  but  only  a  little  worse  than  the  old  suf 
ferings.  They  exchange  a  cannibal  war  for  the 
stench  of  the  hold.  They  have  gratifications 
which  would  be  none  to  the  civilized  girl.  The 
market-man  never  damned  the  lady  because  she 
had  not  paid  her  bill,  but  the  stout  Irishwoman 
has  to  take  that  once  a  month.  She  however 
never  feels  weakness  in  her  back  because  of  the 
slave-trade.  This  self-adapting  strength  is  espe- 


THE   TRAGIC.  271 

daily  seen  in  disease.  "  It  is  my  duty,"  says  Sir 
Charles  Bell,  "  to  visit  certain  wards  of  the  hos 
pital  where  there  is  no  patient  admitted  but  with 
that  complaint  which  most  fills  the  imagination 
with  the  idea  of  insupportable  pain  and  certain 
death.  Yet  these  wards  are  not  the  least  re 
markable  for  the  composure  and  cheerfulness  of 
their  inmates.  The  individual  who  suffers  has  a 
mysterious  counterbalance  to  that  condition,  which, 
to  us  who  look  upon  her,  appears  to  be  attended 
with  no  alleviating  circumstance."  Analogous 
supplies  are  made  to  those  individuals  whose  char 
acter  leads  them  to  vast  exertions  of  body  and 
mind.  Napoleon  said  to  one  of  his  friends  at 
St.  Helena,  "  Nature  seems  to  have  calculated 
that  I  should  have  great  reverses  to  endure,  for 
she  has  given  me  a  temperament  like  a  block  of 
marble.  Thunder  cannot  move  it;  the  shaft 
merely  glides  along.  The  great  events  of  my  life 
have  slipped  over  me  without  making  any  demand 
on  my  moral  or  physical  nature." 

The  intellect  is  a  consoler,  which  delights  in  de 
taching  or  putting  an  interval  between  a  man  and 
his  fortune,  and  so  converts  the  sufferer  into  a  spec 
tator  and  his  pain  into  poetry.  It  yields  the  joys 
of  conversation,  of  letters  and  of  science.  Hence 
also  the  torments  of  life  become  tuneful  tragedy, 
solemn  and  soft  with  music,  and  garnished  with  rich 


272  PAPERS  FROM  THE  DIAL. 

dark  pictures.  But  higher  still  than  the  activities 
of  art,  the  intellect  in  its  purity  and  the  moral  sense 
in  its  purity  are  not  distinguished  from  each  other, 
and  both  ravish  us  into  a  region  whereinto  these 
passionate  clouds  of  sorrow  cannot  rise. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


NOTE.    Titles  of  essays  and  poems  are  in  small  capitals.    The  following  list 
gives  the  titles  of  the  volumes  to  which  the  Roman  numerals  refer  :  — 

I.  NATURE,   ADDRESSES,  AND  LEG-    VIII   LETTERS  AND  SOCIAL  AIMS. 

TURES.  IX.  POEMS. 

II.  ESSAYS,  FIRST  SERIES.  X.  LECTURES     AND    BIOGRAPHICAL 

III.  ESSAYS,  SECOND  SERIES.  SKETCHES. 

IV.  REPRESENTATIVE  MEN.  XI.  MISCELLANIES. 

V.  ENGLISH  TRAITS.  XII.  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  THE  IN- 

VI.  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE.  TELLECT. 

VII.  SOCIETY  AND  SOLITUDE. 


Abandonment,  no  greatness  without, 
vii.  173  ;  the  way  of  life,  ii.  300. 

Abdel  Kader,  and  Daumas,  vii.  256 ; 
on  nobility,  vi.  170. 

Able  men,  have  respect  for  justice,  i. 
160 ;  ask  only  for  ability,  no  matter 
of  what  kind,  iv.  '256. 

Abolition,  bigot  in,  ii.  53 ;  the  church 
appears  in,  iii.  239;  church  hostile 
to,  x.  114  ;  shadow  of  Clarkson,  ii. 
62;  conventions,  ii.  129;  effect  of, 
xi.  132 ;  transcendentalists  and,  i. 
328,  329.  See  below. 

Abolitionist,  every  man  an,  xi.  106, 
236  ;  farmer  the  true,  vii.  137  ;  love 
the  arch-,  xi.  263 ;  made  by  slavery, 
xi.  263. 

Aboriginal  man  not  an  engaging  fig 
ure,  yiii.  256. 

Aboriginal  power,  ii.  333 ;  vi.  73. 

Aboriginal  races,  incapable  of  im 
provement,  xii.  24. 

Aboriginal,  the  State  not,  iii.  191. 

Absolve  you  to  yourself,  ii.  52. 

Absolute  and  relative,  iv.  144. 

Abstemious,  of  criticism,  vii.  173 ;  spir 
it's  teachings  are,  iv.  134. 

Abstemiousness,  quiddling,  vi.  148. 

Abstinence,  i.  205. 

Abstract  truth,  free  from  local  and 
personal  reference,  ii.  304,  309. 

Abstraction,  of  scholars,  viii.  273. 

Abstractionists,  Nature  furnishes,  iii. 
226 ;  iv.  148,  149.  . 

Absurdity,  difference  from  me,  the 
measure  of,  iv.  29. 

Abu  Ali  Seena,  iv.  93. 

Abu  Taleb,  vi.  258. 


Abul  Khain,  iv.  93. 

Abury,  temple  at,  v.  263,  266. 

Abuses  block  the  ways  to  lucrative 
employments,  i.  220. 

Abyss,  replies  to  abyss,  vii.  164 ;  of  be 
ing,  ii.  116  ;  iv.  84. 

Accidents,  not  to  be  feared,  vi.  221  ; 
insurance  office  increases,  ii.  84 ; 
there  are  no,  vii.  127  ;  lovely,  of  na 
ture,  iii.  221 ;  resisting,  vi.  29. 

Accomplishments,  vi.  138  ;  of  the 
scholar,  x.  265. 

Accuracy  essential  to  beauty,  x.  145. 

Achievement,  power  of,  x.  264;  not 
computed  by  time,  ii.  296. 

Achilles,  in  every  nation,  vii.  241 ;  vul 
nerable,  ii.  103. 

Achromatic  lens,  needful  to  see  real 
ity,  x.  162. 

Acorn,  a  thousand  forests  in  one,  ii. 
10. 

Acquaintances,  high,  the  great  happi 
ness  of  life,  vii.  288. 

Acquainted,  be  not  too  much,  iii.  133. 

Acre,  cleave  to  thine,  vi.  232  ;  my,  ix. 
126. 

Acres,  black,  of  the  night,  ix.  283; 
mystic  fruit,  127  ;  sitfast,  36. 

Acrostic,  a  character  like,  ii.  59,  141. 

Action,  Actions,  honest  and  natu 
ral,  agree,  ii.  59  ;  transfigured  as 
thoughts,  i.  97  ;  of  infinite  elastici 
ty,  ii.  55 ;  dispose  to  greater  con 
clusions,  iii.  186 ;  not  rashly  ex- 
plained,  106 ;  future  not  to  be 
decided  beforehand,  xi.  196 ;  indif- 
ferency  of,  ii.  296  ;  in  life,  few,  xii. 
267 ;  what  are  called  good,  ii.  54 ; 


274 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


x.  254 ;  great,  do  not  let  us  go  be 
hind  them,  ii.  230  ;  heroic,  are  beau 
tiful,  i.  25  ;  original,  necessary,  x. 
254  ;  steps  to  power,  ii.  285 ;  a  trick 
of  the  senses,  154 ;  we  shrink  from 
actions  of  our  own,  xi.  404  ;  not  in 
different,  ii.  116,  29G;  their  influ 
ence  not  measured  by  miles,  iii.  7G  ; 
inscribe  themselves,  iv.  249;  inte 
grate  themselves,  ii.  100;  intellec 
tual  quality,  vi.  151 ;  we  put  our 
life  in,  ii.  99;  magnetism  of,  64; 
leave  no  mark  in  the  world,  i.  264 ; 
measured  by  depth  of  sentiment,  ii. 
147;  iv.  255;  mechanical,  ii.  129; 
men  of,  iv.  144,  254;  men  wanted 
more  than,  i.  264 ;  and  misaction, 
x.  255  ;  natural,  i.  25  ;  every  neces 
sary  action  pleases,  vi.  276 ;  Nelson 
on,  viii.  291 ;  are  pearls  to  discourse, 
i.  96 ;  need  perspective,  ii.  11 ;  pic 
ture-book  of  creed,  viii.  27  ;  a  great 
pleasure,  vii.  42 ;  is  prayer,  ii.  77  ; 
reaction,  94 ;  resounding,  iii.  44  ;  a 
resource,  i.  99  ;  satellites  to  nature, 
44  ;  essential  to  scholar,  i.  95  ;  self- 
rewarding,  ii.  100  ;  is  in  silent  mo 
ments,  152  ;  right  speech  not  distin 
guished  from,  viii.  94  ;  spontaneous, 
strong,  ii.  132,  306 ;  iii.  51,  70;  steps 
in  ladder,  ii.  285;  should  rest  on 
substance,  iii.  100;  partiality,  the 
tax  on,  iv.  254;  timely,  ii.  216; 
with  the  scholar  subordinate  but  es 
sential,  i.  95 ;  be  riot  cowed  by  the 
name  of,  ii.  154 ;  not  overdoing  and 
busy-ness,  x.  254  ;  and  thought,  iv. 
254  ;  not  better  than  verses  or  pic 
tures,  xii.  207  ;  give  vocabulary,  i. 
98 ;  preexist  in  the  actor,  iii.  96 ; 
give  a  return  of  wisdom,  i.  98;  ii. 
214. 

Activity,  amiable,  x.  49 ;  children  and 
thoughtless  people  like,  169  ;  conta 
gious,  iv.  18  ;  frivolous,  x.  254  ;  too 
great,  vii.  293 ;  miscellaneous,  to  be 
stopped  off,  vi.  74  ;  makes  room  for 
itself,  v.  33. 

Actors,  the  worst  provincial  better 
than  the  best  amateur,  vi.  78. 

Actual,  dwarfish,  i.  271 ;  Goethe,  poet 
of,  xii.  195,  197  ;  ideal  truer  than, 
196 ;  the  imposing,  xi.  190. 

Adam,  age,  ix.  280  ;  hide  ourselves  as, 
iii.  132 ;  Milton's,  xii.  169,  171  ;  ev 
ery  man  a  new,  x.  136 ;  i.  79 ;  per 
fect,  iii.  213, 

Adamant,  of  nature,  i.  165 ;  passes 
into  smoke,  vii.  140;  x.  72;  Eng 
land  moves  on  a  splinter  of,  v.  64 ; 
wax  to  artist,  ii.  335 ;  ix.  66. 


Adamantine,  bandages,  vi.  21  ;  govern 
ment,  iii.  254  ;  limitations,  iv.  131 ; 
necessity,  vii.  58 ;  syllable,  iii.  235. 

Adamhood,  ix.  27. 

Adamitic  capacity,  Webster  in  his, 
xi.  209. 

Adams,  John,  courage,  xii.  103 ;  ele 
vation,  vi.  154;  fame,  xii.  110;  old 
age,  vii.  304;  patriotism,  x.  238; 
no  backward-creeping  crab,  xi.  418; 
visit  to,  vii.  312. 

Adams,  John  Q.,  company  for  kings, 
x.  367  ;  courage,  xi.  163  ;  eloquence, 
Ii.  60 ;  vii.  85 ;  audacious  indepen 
dence,  xi.  404;  on  literature,  viii. 
120 }  reading,  119. 

Adams,  Samuel,  vii.  113. 

Adaptation,  none  in  man,  iii.  60 ;  the 
peculiarity  of  human  nature,  iv.  154 ; 
of  nature,  vi.  42 ;  we  are  victims  of, 
134. 

Addition,  the  world  not  to  be  analyzed 
by,  ii.  316. 

ADIRONDACS,  ix.  159-170. 

Adjustments,  Nature's,  vi.  41. 

Admetus,  ii.  34 ;  vii.  168. 

Admiration,  strain  to  express,  viii.  85 ; 
not  forgiven,  xii.  27. 

Adrastia,  law  of,  iii.  85. 

Adsched  of  Mem,  viii.  231. 

Adultery,  vi.  16. 

Advance,  the  history  of  nature,  vi,  39 ; 
xi.  408. 

Advantage,  has  its  tax,  ii.  116. 

Advantages,  each  envies  those  he  has 
not,  vi.  139 ;  cannot  afford  to  miss, 
x.  71. 

Adventure,  love  of,  vi.  69 ;  xii.  101. 

Adventurer,  well-received,  vi.  202. 

Adversity,  the  prosperity  of  the  great, 

Advertisement,  most  of  life  mere,  iii. 

75. 
AEOLIAN    HARP,  poems,  ix.   203-207, 

220  ;  dumb,  viii.  259  ;  in  nature,  iii. 

166,  168  ;  viii.  272 ;  ix.  199,  264  ;  x. 

129 ;  melancholy,  xii.  262. 
Aeolus,  steam  his  bag,  i.  19. 
Aeons,  vi.  83 ;  vii.  172 ;  ix.  102. 
Aerolites,  Shakespeare's,  iv.  199. 
Aeschylus,  we  are  civil  to,  viii.  68  ;  in 

earnest,  vii.  56  ;  Eumenides,  iii.  83 ; 

grandest  of  Greek  tragedians,  vii. 

189 ;   counterpart  in  Scott's  Bride 

of  Lammermoor,  xi.  375 ;   quoted, 

xi.  225. 

Aesop,  his  price,  x.  51 ;  knew  the  real 
ities  of  life,  vi.  247,  248;  viii.  9;  a 

man  of  the  world,  v.  147. 
Aesop's  Fables,  iii.  35 ;  iv.  192. 
Affections,  the  pathetic  region  of,  vi. 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


275 


299;  beauty,  i.  100;  benefits,  vii. 
17  ;  exhil.iratiou,  ii.  183 ;  geomet 
ric,  viii.  104 ;  Heraclitus  said  were 
colored  mists,  ii.  304 ;  increases  in 
tellect,  184  ;  viii.  217  ;  xii.  41  ;  jets, 
ii.  185 ;  and  memory,  xii.  76 ;  meta 
morphosis,  ii.  185 ;  tent  of  a  night, 
178 ;  sweetness  of  life,  183 ;  make 
the  web  of  life,  vii.  283  ;  essential  to 
will,  vi.  32  ;  associate  us,  i.  123  ;  vii. 
19,  20. 

Affinities,  in  conversation,  ii.  198 ;  per 
ception  of,  makes  the  poet,  i.  59; 
essential  to  man  of  the  world,  iii. 
123  ;  to  great  men,  iv.  43;  between 
man  and  works,  xii.  58  ;  neglect  of, 
ii.  143  ;  of  persons,  53  ;  range,  vi. 
132  ;  reciprocity,  vii.  20  ;  of  thoughts, 
xii.  21 ;  of  virtue  with  itself  in  dif 
ferent  persons,  ii.  186 ;  women's, 
iii.  146  ;  world  enlarged  by,  vii.  284. 

Affirmative,  being  is,  ii.  116  ;  we  love 
the,  iv.  163  ;  viii.  134  ;  class,  vi.  72  ; 
forces,  vi.  59;  good  mind  chooses, 
xii.  56 ;  vii.  289  ;  incessant,  291 ; 
love  is,  291  ;  xii.  56 ;  in  manners, 
etc.,  vii.  290;  philosophy,  x.  234; 
power,  225,  226 ;  principle,  iii.  49 ; 
sacred,  x.  211. 

Afraid,  do  what  you  are  afraid  to  do, 
ii.  245. 

Afrasiyab,  viii.  229. 

Africa,  civilization,  xi.  169,  173.  See 
Negro,  Slavery. 

Africanization  of  U.  S.,  xi.  278. 

Afternoon  men,  ii.  216 ;  saunterings, 
i.  158. 

Agamemnon,  ii.  28. 

Agaric,  self-planting,  iii.  27. 

Agassiz,  Louis,  viii.  208  ;  ix.  169  ;  mu 
seum,  viii.  146 ;  theories,  13 ;  xi, 
332. 

Age,  old.    See  Old  Age. 

Age,  the  characteristics  of  different 
ages,  i.  108,  272;  of  the  present, 
the  interest  in  familiar  things,  110, 
258,  267  ;  vi.  9  ;  of  fops,  ix.  180  ;  of 
gold,  iii.  87 ;  ix.  231 ;  of  omnibus, 
xi.  419;  walks  about  in  persons,  i. 
251 ;  vi.  42  ;  of  reason  in  a  patty 
pan,  x.  343 ;  retrospective,  i.  9 ; 
riddle  of,  vi.,10;  of  analysis,  x.  308. 

Ages,  of  belief,  great,  vi.  207  ;  equiva 
lence  of,  viii.  203;  instruct  the 
hours,  ii.  10  ;  ideas  work  in,  xi.  187  ; 
not  idle,  i.  293. 

Agiochook,  i.  164  ;  ix.  72. 

Agitation,  blessed,  xi.  415. 

Agitators,  i.  270. 

Agricultural  Report,  xii.  221. 

Agriculture,  praise  of,  i.  346  ;  attacks 


on,  240;  aids  civilization,  vii.  26, 
146  ;  Engli&h,  v.  95,  181  ;  check  on 
nomadism,  ii.  26 ;  oldest  profession, 
i.  229 ;  respect  for,  225,  359  ;  vii. 
133 ;  steam  in,  v.  95  ;  thrift  in,  ii. 
221.  See,  also,  Farming. 

AGRICULTURE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS,  xii. 
219-224. 

Aids,  casting  off,  iii.  247  ;  xi.  222. 

Aim,  high,  i.  206  ;  iii.  254 ;  vi.  221 ; 
x.  66;  aggrandizes  the  means,  vii. 
257 ;  men  of,  x.  42 ;  mind  own,  ix. 
32 ;  want  of,  vi.  199. 

Air,  artful,  ix.  157 ;  exhalation,  xii. 
85 ;  fame,  ix.  190 ;  food  of  life,  xii. 
85  ;  gifts,  x.  72 ;  inspiration,  iii.  33  ; 
intellectual,  vii.  164 ;  effect  on  man 
ners,  xii.  85  ;  is  matter  subdued  by 
heat,  vii.  140 ;  full  of  men,  vi.  22 ; 
moral  sentiment  in,  i.  48  ;  music, 
iii.  13 ;  an  ocean,  i.  18  ;  receptacle, 
vii.  140 ;  of  mountains,  a  good  repub 
lican,  xii.  85 ;  like  a  river,  i»  49 ; 
salubrity,  vi.  231 ;  coined  into  song, 
ii.  167 ;  sounds,  xii.  30 ;  useful  and 
hurtful,  ii.  316  ;  forged  into  words, 
i.  46 ;  works  for  man,  vii.  140 ; 
worth,  x.  262. 

Air-ball,  thought,  vi.  273. 

Air-bells  of  fortune,  ix.  199. 

Air-lord,  poet,  iii.  45, 

Air-pictures,  iii.  211. 

Air-sown  words,  ix.  191. 

Airs,  logs  sing,  ii.  214. 

Airs,  putting  on,  xii.  102. 

Aisles,  forest,  ix.  45 ;  monastic,  15 ;  of 
Rome,  16. 

Akhlak-y-jalaly,  iv.  42. 

Aladdin's  lamp,  oil,  viii.  137. 

Alarmists,  vi.  62. 

Alchemy,  is  in  the  right  direction,  vi. 
268. 

Alcfbiades,  iii.  260. 

Alcott,  A.  B.,  x.  354. 

Alderman,  dreariest,  vi.  296. 

Alembert,  Jean  d',  quoted,  vi.  296; 
x.  111. 

Alexander,  ^md  Aristotle,  x.  290 ;  a 
gentleman,  iii.  123  ;  x.  300  ;  xi.  267  ; 
estimate  of  life,  iii.  260  ;  and  Napo 
leon,  xii.  203 ;  not  representative, 
viii.  286  ;  victories,  xi.  181. 

Alexander  of  soil,  xii.  219. 

Algebra,  iii.  34.  38. 

Ali,  Caliph,  quoted,  i.  211  ;  ii.  86 ; 
success,  x.  60  ;  vigor,  i.  299. 

All  whom  he  knew,  met,  viii.  91. 

All-confounding  pleasure,  ii.  200. 

Allies,  best,  viii.  219. 

Allingham,  William,  quoted,  viii.  265. 

Allstou,  Washington,  Coleridge  on,  v. 


276 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


14,  17 ;  design,  vii.  50 ;  habits,  viii. 
275;  house,  vi.  110. 

Almanac,  of  birds,  ix.  154 ;  man  an, 
vi.  127  ;  of  mental  moods,  xii.  10 ; 
Thomas's,  221.  See,  also,  Calendars. 

Alms-giving,  i.  122  ;  vii.  112. 

Almshouse,  world  an,  ii.  340. 

Alone,  flight  of,  to  the  alone,  iv.  95; 
must  go,  ii.  71 ;  none,  vi.  216. 

Alphabet,  boy  and,  viii.  161. 

ALPHONSO  OF  CASTILE,  ix.  27-29;  ad 
vice,  iii.  227. 

Alpine  air,  ix.  158 ;  cataracts,  124 ;  dis 
trict,  vi.  207. 

Alps,  ix.  282 ;  Dante  etched  on,  190 ; 
fires  under,  279  ;  globe-girdling, 
60 ;  landscape,  xii.  210  ;  love  eats 
through,  ix.  242  ;  pedestals  of,  168  ; 
shadow,  ii.  140 ;  suowy  shower,  ix. 
295. 

Alternation,  law  of  nature,  ii.  189 ;  vii. 
213,235;  viii.  51,  144,  145. 

Amateurs  and  practitioners,  vi.  79. 

Ambassadors,  objects  like,  xii.  5. 

Amber  of  memory,  ii.  166. 

Ambient  cloud,  x.  57. 

Ambition,  errors  from,  vi.  208  ;  pure, 
iii.  261 ;  vii.  118  ;  of  scholar,  i.  167  ; 
thieving,  vi.  266 ;  ix.  234. 

Amelioration,  principle  of,  i.  352  ;  iv. 
38,  79.  See  Melioration. 

Amen,  obsolete,  i.  237. 

America,  advantages,  viii.  102, 197  ;  xi. 
328, 418  ;  architecture,  viii.  202 ;  aris 
tocracy,  i.  249  ;  arts,  ii.  81  ;  vii.  59  ; 
bill  of  rights,  xi.  400;  Carlyle  on, 
v.  19  ;  chanticleer,  xi.  330 ;  civili 
zation,  viii.  102  ;  xi.  153,  327,  419  ; 
clubs,  xi.  409;  colossal,  327;  Con 
gress,  vii.  89 ;  Constitution,  i.  261 ; 
iii.  202;  courts,  vi.  63;  crisis,  xi. 
399  ;  democracy,  408  ;  destiny,  325  ; 
discovery,  vii.  169;  xi.  192,  399; 
domestic  service,  vi.  260  ;  econo 
mists,  v.  146 ;  education,  vii.  116 ; 
viii.  221 ;  xi.  409 ;  and  England,  v. 
55,  117,  119,  146  ;  and  Europe,  ii. 
26 ;  vii.  155  ;  expensiveness,  vi.  201  ; 
extent  dazzles  the  imagination,  iii. 
41 ;  vi.  243 ;  flag,  ix.  173,  179 ;  xi. 
413;  fortune,  xi.  412;  genius,  iii. 
220 ;  v.  39 ;  xi.  327  ;  the  geography 
sublime,  the  men  not,  vi.  243  ;  viii. 
137 ;  government,  theory  of,  xi. 
244,  411,  412 ;  growth,  xii.  100  ;  an 
immense  Halifax,  xi.  415;  history 
short,  i.  370  ;  idea,  v.  272  ;  imitative, 
i.  152  ;  ii.  81 ;  vii.  172  ;  xi.  327  ;  im 
migration,  x.  232  ;  xi.  399  ;  a  nation 
of  individuals,  412  ;  influence,  i.  350 ; 
institutions,  iii.  198 ;  landscape,  v. 


273 ;  life,  viii.  137  ;  literature  opta 
tive,  i.  323;  xii.  260;  materialism, 
i.  183;  x.  64,  232;  xi.  326,  413; 
mendicant,  vii.  172  ;  names,  v.  172  ; 
newness,  viii.  202;  means  opportu 
nity,  98,  137  ;  xi.  279,  422  ;  a  poem, 
iii.  40,  41  ;  political  economy,  xi. 
402  ;  politics,  viii.  220  ;  xi.  329,  401, 
405  ;  country  of  poor  men,  xi.  408  ; 
progress,  vii.  34,  267  ;  xi.  412  ;  radi 
calism,  iii.  201  ;  reform,  i.  256 ;  xi. 
411  ;  religion,  x.  203  ;  resources, 
viii.  102,  137,  148 ;  xi.  404 ;  scholar 
ship,  i.  152 ;  sentiment,  344 ;  want 
of  sincerity  in  leading  men,  xi.  270  ; 
slavery,  see  Slavery  ;  vanity,  i.  369  ; 
xi.  412  ;  wealth,  shame  for,  v.  149  ; 
women,  iii.  145 ;  Wordsworth  on,  v. 
22  ;  country  of  young  men,  vii.  312. 
See,  also,  American,  Americans, 
United  States. 

American  Civil  War.  See  under 
United  States. 

AMERICAN  CIVILIZATION,  xi.  275-290. 

American,  model,  viii.  101  ;  x.  429. 

American  Revolution,  i.  209 ;  ix.  185  ; 
xi.  71,  103. 

AMERICAN  SCHOLAR,  i.  81-115. 

AMERICAN,  YOUNG,  i.' 341-372. 

Americanism,  shallow,  vii.  273. 

Americans,  activity,  character,  xi, 
329  ;  conservatism,  iii.  201  ;  conver 
sation,  v.  112 ;  crime  no  shock  to, 
xi.  216 ;  deeds,  vii.  267  ;  depression, 
i.  270;  vii.  276;  xi.  414;  destiny, 
325,  418;  value  dexterity,  211; 
Dickens  on,  vi.  167  ;  x.  235 ;  rely 
on  dollar,  i.  237 ;  dress  with  good 
sense,  viii.  86 ,  energy,  138 ;  con 
trasted  with  English,  v.  125,  135, 
261,  290 ;  xi.  412  ;  deference  to  Eng 
lish,  i.  161,  370;  vi.  63;  xi.  153, 
415,  416 ;  ethics  in  money-paying, 
x.  64  ;  passion  for  Europe,  i.  113, 
343 ;  ii.  26,  204 ;  vi.  140,  252 ;  vii. 
172,  275 ;  xi.  415  ff;  lack  faith,  i. 
237;  choked  by  forms,  xi.  244; 
fury,  329 ;  gentlemen,  419 ;  lack 
idealism,  418 ;  idlers,  415,  417  ;  im 
pulsiveness,  414 ;  independence,  xii. 
102;  intellect,  x.  264,  347;  levity, 
244;  xi.  414;  life,  417;  manners,  vi. 
167  ;  viii.  79  ;  melioration,  137  ;  and 
New  Zealanders,  ii.  83  ;  perception, 
215 ;  poetic  genius,  iii.  40 ;  practi 
cality,  x.  254  ;  deaf  to  principle,  xi. 
225;  a  puny  and  a  fickle  folk,  i. 
183  ;  no  purists,  x.  64 ;  lack  repose, 
i.  270 ;  vi.  139 ;  vii.  270  ;  xi.  414 ; 
lack  reverence,  x.  198 ;  self-asser 
tion,  i.  343;  xi.  404,  410;  sensual- 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


277 


ism,  413 ;  no  sentiment,  i.  237 ; 
shop-keepers,  xi.  153 ;  society,  vii. 
35;  viii.  100,  110;  x.  43;  sover 
eignty,  xi.  326  ;  speech-making  pro 
pensities,  vi.  146  ;  students,  v.  202 ; 
success,  vii.  272  ;  xi.  414 ;  superfi- 
cialness,  vi.  11 ;  respect  for  talent, 
iv.  267  ;  x.  264  ;  love  of  travel,  ii. 
79 ;  v.  260,  261  ;  vii.  172  ;  xi.  325, 
415  ;  youth,  vi.  144 ;  viii.  84. 

Aines,  Fisher,  quoted,  iii.  202. 

Amici,  Prof.,  v.  12. 

Ainita,  x.  373,  note. 

Amphibious,  men  are,  iii.  219. 

Amphion,  iii.  189  ;  ix.  230. 

Amphitheatre,  Roman,  origin  of  the 
shape,  vii.  57  ;  xii.  191. 

AMULET,  THE,  ix.  88. 

Amulets,  ix.  33  ;  x.  21. 

Amurath,  Sultan,  iv.  251. 

Amusements,  aim  of  society,  vi.  235  ; 
education  of,  137  ;  forbidden,  139 ; 
need  of,  viii.  145 ;  x.  109 ;  safeguard 
of  rulers,  iii.  255 ;  vi.  37. 

Analogy,  i.  33,  87  ;  v.  227,  241 ;  viii. 
18,  186  ;  x.  177. 

Analysis,  iii.  64  ;  vi.  294 ;  xii.  13. 

Anarchy,  value  of,  i.  304;  iii.  202, 
228 ;  in  the  church,  vi.  195  ;  xi. 
247. 

Anatomy,  in  art,  i.  49  ;  xii.  119  ;  mor 
bid,  vii.  260, 290 ;  of  national  tenden 
cies,  v.  134 ;  sympathetic,  vi.  219. 

Ancestors,  escape  from,  vi.  15;  face 
represents,  v.  53 ;  reverence  for,  vii. 
170 ;  a  man  represents  each  of  sev 
eral  ancestors,  vi.  15  5  independence 
of,  i.  167. 

Anchors,  easy  to  twist,  vi.  262. 

Ancients,  why  venerable,  xii.  245. 

Andersen,  Hans  C.,  quoted,  viii.  80. 

Andes,  vi.  258  ;  viii.  128. 

ANGELO,  MICHAEL,  xii.  113 ;  on  beauty, 
i.  62;  cardinal  in  picture,  iv.  131; 
cartoons,  v.  194;  conscience  of  It 
aly,  viii.  206 ;  on  death,  313  ;  on  eye 
of  artist,  vi.  171 ;  frescoes,  ii.  331  ; 
Landor  on,  v.  11 ;  influence  on  Mil 
ton,  xii.  156  ;  sonnet  translated,  ix. 
244 ;  xii.  113 ;  on  the  test  of  sculp 
ture,  ii.  146  ;  self-confidence,  vii. 
274 ;  Sistine  chapel,  vi.  73  ;  xii.  126, 
128  ;  solitude,  vii.  13  ;  viii.  206 ;  xii. 
135  ;  beauty  the  purgation  of  super 
fluities,  vi.  279. 

Angels,  past  actions  are,  i.  97  ;  asp  or, 
i.  322  ;  of  the  body,  ii.  177  ;  vii.  163  ; 
of  children,  iv.  33  ;  for  cook,  vi.  261 ; 
shown  in  crises,  i.  146  ;  disguised, 
i.  276 ;  our  ancestors'  familiarity 
with,  x.  107  ;  favoritism,  21  ;  flutes, 


ix.  156;  food,  i.  319;  gossip  keeps 
them  in  the  proprieties,  vi.  212; 
guardian,  x.  26,  79  ;  hope,  iii.  237  ; 
language,  ii.  323  ;  let  go,  120  ;  take 
liberties  with  letters,  iii.  217  ;  mem 
ory,  xii.  65;  poems,  viii.  74,  263; 
power,  x.  26 ,  praise,  i.  146 ;  preach 
ers,  i.  144 ;  iv.  136 ;  pride,  ix.  12  ; 
lead  men  out  of  prison,  iii.  269; 
punishers,  xii.  65 ;  shoon,  ix.  240 ; 
skirts,  235  ;  Swedeuborg  on,  iv.  121, 
136  ;  vii.  12  ;  viii.  221 ;  talk,  xii.  99 ; 
thrones,  ii.  287 ;  blind  to  trespass, 
x.  207 ;  walking  among,  iv.  136 ; 
wandering,  x.  371 ;  whisperings,  iii. 
69 ;  words,  i.  46 ;  of  youth,  vii.  117 ; 
x.  240. 

Angles,  veracity  of,  iv.  15 ;  at  which 
we  look  at  things,  xii.  9. 

Anglomania,  ii.  26. 

Anglo-Saxons,  vi.  146;  xi.  225.  See, 
also,  Saxons. 

Angularity  of  facts,  ii.  14. 

Animal,  every  efficient  man  a  fine  ani 
mal,  v.  72 ;  novice,  iii.  174. 

Animal  consciousness  in  dreams,  x. 
12. 

Animal  courage,  vii.  242. 

Animal  magnetism,  i.  76;  x.  26,  29. 
See  Mesmerism. 

Animal  spirits,  vii.  17,  18. 

Animalcules,  our  bodies  built  up  of, 
vi.  109. 

Animals,  dreams  of  nature,  x.  12 ; 
features  in  men,  13 ;  good  sense,  viii. 
152;  xii.  20;  growth,  iv.  104;  viii. 
15  ;  memory  in,  xii.  63  ;  moral  sen 
timent  in,  x.  178  ;  'pantomime,  i.  48  ; 
Plutarch  on,  x.  19 ;  not  progres 
sive,  126;  pugnacity,  vii.  242;  sa 
cred,  x.  19;  scavengers,  vii.  260; 
truthfulness,  v.  115. 

Anne,  of  Russia,  snow  palace,  viii.  319. 

Annoyances,  viii.  274. 

Answers,  vii.  222,  226. 

ANSWERS  TO  CORRESPONDENTS,  xii.  249. 

Antagonisms,  ii.  199,  201 ;  vi.  27,  242  ; 
vii.  20. 

Autenor,  vii.  73. 

Anthroporneter,  x.  52. 

Anthropomorphism,  we  baptize  the 
daylight  by  the  name  of  John  or 
Joshua,  viii.  27;  x.  17,  195;  xii. 
121. 

Anti-masonry,  i.  257. 

Antiuomianism,  i.  317 ;  ii.  73 :  iii. 
241. 

Antiquity,  i.  155,  287 ;  ii.  16 ;  v.  62, 
108,  203  ;  vii.  170.  ' 

Anti-Slavery,  i.  204  ;  xi.  165, 172,  229, 
347.  See,  also,  Slavery. 


278 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Antoninus,  Marcus  Aurelius,  vi.  156, 
228,  246;  viii.  295,  313;  x.  94,  115, 
121. 

Apathy,  ii.  191  ;  x.  377. 

Apollo,  iii.  83 ;  vii.  176. 

Apologies,  ii.  61,  67,  152,  154,  245 ;  do 
not  apologize,  iii.  101,  208  ;  vi.  225 ; 
viii.  86, 

APOLOGY,  THE,  ix.  105 /. 

Apoplexy,  viii.  161. 

Apparatus,  vi.  97  ;  xi.  191. 

Appearances  and  realities,  i.  52  ;  ii. 
60,  65,  210 ;  iii.  39  ;  iv.  176 ;  xi.  191  ; 
the  attempt  to  make  a  favorable  ap 
pearance  vitiates  the  effect,  i.  123. 

Appetite,  ii.  219 ;  iv.  175 ;  vi.  148. 

Apple-tree,  vi.  102. 

Apprenticeships,  iii.  44. 

Approbation,  we  love  but  do  not  for 
give,  ii.  286  i  x.  62. 

Approximations,  we  live  in,  iii.  182. 

Appulses,  iii.  12. 

APRIL,  ix.  219;  ix.  27,  87,  125, 

148. 

Aptitudes,  vii.  274  ;  x.  47 ;  xii.  28. 

Arabian  Nights,  vii.  71,  104. 

Arabs,  civilization,  v.  51 ;  x.  172 ; 
enthusiasm,  i.  239  ;  barb  not  a  good 
roadster,  vi.  77  ;  love  of  poetry,  viii. 
227  ;  do  not  count  days  spent  in  the 
chase,  265,  266 ;  sheiks,  ii.  261 ;  vii. 
271 ;  victories,  i.  239. 

Arch,  gothic,  ii.  24 ;  never  sleeps,  xii. 

Architect,  i.  49 ;  iv.  186 ;  xii.  119. 

Architecture,  American,  viii.  202  ; 
bond  of  arts,  xii.  122 ;  fitness  in,  vi. 
47,  286 ;  Carlyle-on,  v.  260  ;  French, 
vii.  229;  Greek,  ii.  19;  Greenough 
on,  v.  10 ;  length  of  line  in,  271 ; 
compared  to  music,  i.  49  ;  viii.  176  ; 
and  nature,  ii.  24 ;  origin,  i.  71 ;  ii. 
24 ;  vii.  56 ;  viii.  178 ;  rhyme  in,  48, 
54  ;  of  snow,  ix.  43. 

Arctic  expeditions,  ii.  84. 

Argument,  forbear,  ii.  225 ;  vii.  214  ; 
viii.  97  ;  ix.  14. 

ARISTOCRACY,  x.  33-67 ;  American,  i. 
249 ;  beauties,  370  ;  English,  v.  166 ; 
x.  463;  European,  iii.  143;  follies, 
xi.  400;  inevitable,  iii.  126;  justi 
fied  where  its  foundation  is  merit, 
x.  42 ;  literature  of,  vii.  190 ;  man 
ners,  vi.  168 ;  Puritans  without,  xii. 
101 ;  of  trade,  i.  357  ;  traits,  x.  35. 

Aristophanes,  xi.  347. 

Aristotle,  his  definitions,  i.  59;  ii. 
139 ;  iii.  34 ;  v.  132 ;  vii.  43,  151 ; 
viii.  151,  264 ;  x.  145,  445 ;  xii.  57, 
173. 

Arithmetic,  ii.  238,  295 ;  iii.  197 ;  iv. 


228 ;  vi.  99 ;  vii.  171 ;  x.  145,  309, 
328. 

Ark  of  God,  iii.  235. 

Arininianism,  x.  311. 

Armor,  vi.  214 ;  truth  our,  219 ;  x. 
261. 

Army,  discipline,  vi.  134  ;  English,  v. 
65  ;  Napoleon's,  ii.  85  ;  iv.  228. 

Arnim,  Bettine  von,  iii.  58 ;  vi.  156. 

Arrangement,  viii.  271. 

Arsenal  of  forces,  x.  71. 

ART,  ii.  325-343 ;  vii.  39-59  ;  ix.  235 ; 
baubles,  iii.  168,-  beauty,  i.  28;  ii. 
329 ;  vi.  279  ;  the  best  in  work  of,  i. 
201  ;  Carlyle  on,  v.  260 ;  lives  in 
contrasts,  vi.  242;  courage  in,  vii. 
253 ;  creation,  iii.  41 ;  deification  of, 
iii.  223 ;  denned,  i.  11 ;  vii.  42,  43 ; 
xii.  118  ;  devotion  to,  ii.  219  ;  col 
lections  in  England,  v.  180 ;  epitome 
of  world,  i.  29 ;  source  of  excel 
lence  in,  iv.  69 ;  in  rude  people,  x. 
82 ;  galleries,  vi.  97  ;  vii.  125 ;  human 
form  in,  xii.  121 ;  immobility  in,  iii. 
59 ;  industrial,  is  but  initial,  ii.  337  ; 
jealous,  vi.  112 ;  Landor  on,  v.  11 ; 
love  of,  vii.  277 ;  attuned  to  moral 
nature,  54  ;  is  nature  working 
through  man,  i.  29 ;  a  complement 
to  nature,  iii.  167  ;  vii.  44,51, 54,  280 ; 
ix.  17,  194 ;  nature  predominates  in, 
vii  59  ;  is  free  necessity,  52 ;  prop 
erty  in,  125;  proportion,  iii.  223; 
refining  influence,  vi.  97  ;  success 
in,  73 ;  universal,  xii.  118 ;  is  con 
scious  utterance  of  thought,  vii.  42 ; 
woman  in,  xi.  340  ;  works  of,  should 
be  public  property,  vii.  126. 

ARTHUR,  KING,  legends,  v.  57  ;  vii.  119- 
299;  viii.  61,275;  ix.  204. 

ARTIST,  difference  from  artisan,  vi. 
220  ;  disjoined  from  his  object,  xii. 
41 ;  English,  v.  241 ;  exemptions, 
x.  258 ;  idealize  by  detaching,  ii. 
330 ;  inspirations,  335 ;  inspirers,  vii. 
50 ;  intoxication,  iii.  31  ;  life,  ii. 
335  ;  materials,  335  ;  models,  81 ; 
morality,  219 ;  motive,  x.  244 ;  power 
not  spontaneous,  ii.  313 ;  stimulants, 
vi.  213 ;  surroundings,  viii.  275 ;  syn 
thesis,  iv.  56. 

Arts,  creation  their  aim,  ii.  327  ;  sec 
ond  childhood,  i.  347  ;  disease,  iii. 
68  ;  distinction,  ii.  342  ;  vii.  46  ;  xii. 
122  ;  draperies,  vii.  203  ;  expensive- 
ness,  x.  235 ;  initial,  ii.  337  ;  know 
ledge,  iii.  9  ;  law,  vii.  46  ;  lost,  viii. 
171 ;  materials,  iv.  15  ;  morality,  vii. 
159 ;  and  nature,  i.  19 ;  new,  de 
stroy  old,  ii.  282  ;  Oriental,  x.  172  ; 
origin,  vii.  58  ;  of  savage  nations, 


GENERAL  INDEX, 


279 


viii.  201 ;  not  satisfactory  but  sug 
gestive,  iii.  182. 

Aryan  legends,  viii.  178. 

Ascension,  the  poet's,  iii.  28  ;  iv.  36, 
08  ;  vi.  39,  121. 

Asceticism,  i.  170,  180 ;  ii.  246 ;  iii. 
66  ;  x.  172. 

Ashley,  Lord,  viii.  125. 

Asia,  kept  out  of  Europe,  vii.  257  ;  im 
migrations,  iv.  48 ;  iii  the  mind,  ii. 
15  ;  iv.  62  ;  nomadism,  ii.  26  ;  ran 
cor,  ix.  67  ;  country  of  fate,  iv.  53. 

Asinine  expression,  ii.  56  ;  resistance, 
i.  283.  ' 

Asmodeus,  vi.  167 ;  viii.  144 ;  ix.  277. 

Aspasia,  vi.  179. 

Aspiration,  xi.  354  ;  xii.  185,  253  ;  and 
not  effort  also,  ii.  268. 

Assacombuit,  xi.  186. 

Assessors,  divine,  vi.  216. 

Assimilating  power,  viii.  170, 181,  191. 

Association  of  ideas,  xii.  68. 

Associations,  i.  360 ;  iii.  127  ;  x.  309 ; 
compromise,  ii.  190,  247 ;  iii.  250. 
See  Communities. 

Assyria,  i.  23. 

Aster,  ix.  106. 

Astley,  John,  anecdote,  viii.  162. 

ASTRAEA,  ix.  75/. 

Astrology,  vi.  268 ;  x.  18. 

Astronomy,  belittled,  viii.  10;  con 
cords,  ix.  126 ;  and  creeds,  viii.  201 ; 
discoveries,  vi.  209  ;  espionage,  vii. 
173 ;  fortune-telling,  ix.  123  ;  in 
mind,  viii.  28;  miracles,  x.  18;  nat 
ural  forces,  vii.  32  ;  no  foreign  sys 
tem,  xii.  5 ;  and  sectarianism,  viii. 
201  ;  spiritual,  ii.  205  ;  teachings,  vi. 
153 ;  x.  317. 

Atheism,  iii.  264 ;  vi.  193  ;  xi.  215. 

Athenians,  x.  249. 

Athens,  genius,  iv.  53  ;  Mercury's 
statues,  x.  106;  thousand-eyed,  iii. 
104. 

Atlantean  shoulders,  iv.  20. 

Atlantic,  roll,  v.  237  ;  pumped  through 
the  ship,  x.  167  ;  strength  and  cheer, 
xii.  220. 

Atmosphere,  of  the  planet,  vi.  221 ;  of 
men,  iii.  219 ;  vii.  207  ;  x.  57 ;  re 
sistance  to,  iii.  202  ;  vi.  29 ;  must  be 
two  to  make,  x.  57  ;  westerly  cur 
rent,  vi.  32  ;  of  women,  xi.  343. 

Atom,  not  isolated,  vii.  139  ;  viii.  211 ; 
genetical,  xii.  212  ;  journeying,  ix. 
10  ;  march  in  tune,  65 ;  every  atom 
carries  the  whole  of  nature,  vi.  303  ; 
self-kindled,  iii.  161;  yawns  from 
atom,  ix.  280. 

Atomies,  xi.  182. 

Attention,  ii.  137. 


Attractions  proportioned  to  destinies, 
viii.  44. 

Auburn  dell,  ix.  148. 

Audibilities  of  a  room,  v.  130. 

Audience,  a  meter,  vii.  67,  82,  84,  93 ; 
viii.  34,  277. 

Augur  and  bird,  x.  19. 

Augustine,  St.,  vii.  198 ;  viii.  53,  329 ; 
ix.  17;  x.  289;  xi.  388;  xii.  95,  194, 
218. 

Aunts,  viii.  81,  143  ;  x.  24 ;  xii.  69. 

Auricular  air,  vi.  40. 

Aurora,  Guide's,  ii.  21. 

Authority,  ii.  276 ;  x.  311. 

Authors,  the  company  of,  v.  8 ;  writ 
ten  out,  i.  98;  spirit  of,  xii.  183; 
interruptions,  viii.  276  ;  mutual 
flattery,  ii.  273 ;  write  better  under 
a  mask,  viii.  187 ;  we  want  only  a 
new  word  from,  iii.  229.  See,  also, 
Writers. 

Autobiography,  vii.  198. 

Autumn,  vii.  281. 

Auxiliaries,  man's,  vi.  235. 

Avarice,  slavery  not  founded  on,  xi. 
148. 

Avenger,  the,  xi.  224. 

Averages,  we  are,  iv.  154. 

Aversation,  ii.  57  ;  x.  429. 

Awkwardness,  healed  by  women,  vi. 
282;  conies  from  want  of  thought, 
viii.  82. 

Axis  of  vision  and  of  things,  i.  77. 

Azure,  come  out  of  the,  vi.  188. 

Babe,  descriptions,  vii.  101,  243;  ix. 
10 ;  viii.  81  ;  power,  ii.  50 ;  thou 
sand  years  old,  vii.  299. 

Baboon,  descent  from,  v.  52 ;  vi.  197. 

BACCHUS,  ix.  lllff; viii.  71;  xi. 

396. 

Bachelors,  iii.  175. 

Backbone,  imprisoned  in,  xi.  419. 

Bacon,  Delia,  viii.  188. 

Bacon,  Francis,  analogist,  v.  227  ;  de 
light  in,  iii.  58 ;  eloquence,  vii.  83  ; 
English  language  from,  v.  99 ;  fame, 
i.  254  ;  generalizations,  v.  229  ; 
idealist,  iv.  42;  v.  227 ;  imagina 
tion,  235  ;  xii.  170  ;  on  immortality, 
viii.  323 ;  Jonson  on,  v.  231  ;  on 
manners,  vii.  18;  and  Milton,  xii. 
152 ;  and  Newton,  v.  236 ;  on  para 
doxes,  93 ;  doctrine  of  poetry,  230  ; 
viii.  24  ;  xii.  173  ;  and  Shakespeare, 
iv.  193;  viii.  188;  style,  xii.  247; 
symbolism  in,  iv.  113;  on  time  as 
reformer,  v.  109 ;  universality,  228, 
232. 

Bacon,  Roger,  discoveries  and  predic 
tions,  v.  153 ;  viii.  204. 


280 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Bad,  bark  against,  vii.  291  ;  some 
times  a  better  doctor  tluvu  good,  vi. 
241. 

Bad  news,  x.  1GO. 

Bad  times,  x.  237. 

Bad  world,  the  way  to  mend,  vi.  214. 

Badges,  ii.  52,  154,  195 ;  iii.  21 ;  Eng 
lish  no  taste  for,  v.  87. 

Badness  is  death,  i.  124. 

Bag  of  bones,  v.  288. 

Balances,  ii.  96 ;  vi.  41 ;  viii.  44 ;  ix. 
22 

Ball,  Alexander,  vii.  247. 

Ballads,  ii.  331 ;  viii.  68. 

Balloons,  v.  156. 

Balls,  vi.  139. 

Bancroft,  George,  v.  277. 

Banishment  to  the  rocks  and  echoes, 
vii.  15. 

Bank-days,  vi.  235. 

Bankers,  i.  359  ;  vi.  99. 

Bank-notes,  ii.  222 ;  vi.  102  ;  xi.  281. 

Banquets,  iv.  122  ;  vii.  115. 

Banshees,  x.  27. 

Banyan,  ii.  122  ;  xii.  109. 

Baptism,  x.  109. 

Baptizing  daylight,  x.  195. 

Barbarism,  vii.  23,  37. 

Barcena,  viii.  29G. 

Bards,  i.  131,  143  ;  iii.  35. 

BARDS  AND  TROUVEURS,  viii.  58-G4. 

Bar-rooms,  iii.  G4  ;  xi.  402. 

Barrows,  iii.  10. 

Basle,  monk,  vi.  185. 

Battery  of  nature,  viii.  72. 

Battle,  eye  in,  ii.  224;  of  fate,  75; 
courage  in,  vii.  246,  247 ;  Napoleon 
on,  iv.  236 ;  verdict,  x.  52. 

Baubles,  vi.  297. 

Be,  privilege  to,  i.  45. 

Be,  not  seem,  ii.  151 ;  x.  267. 

Beads,  life  a  string  of,  iii.  53  ;   viii. 

Beatitudes,  ii.  329;  iii.  Ill;  iv.  95; 
x.  251. 

Beaumarchais,  vii.  227. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  ii.  231  ; 
quoted,  58;  ii.  45,  168^,231,  241; 
viii.  56,  312! 

Beautiful,  the  highest,  escaping  the 
dowdiness  of  the  good  and  the  heart- 
lessness  of  the  true,  i.  335;  com 
mon  offices  made,  iii.  235  ;  who  are, 
x.  57  ;  within,  xii.  213. 

Beautiful,  the,  must  carry  it  with  us, 
ii.  334 ;  denned,  vi.  274 ;  exalts,  xii. 
117;  God  the,  ii.  185;  good  the 
cause  of,  iv.  57  ;  never  plentiful,  xi. 
419  ;  takes  out  of  surfaces,  vi.  274  ; 
useful,  ii.  341. 

BEAUTY,  i.  21-30. 


BEAUTY,  ODE  TO,  ix.  81-84,  2G3,  note. 

Beauty,  is  in  expression,  ii.  334 ;  vi. 
285 ;  accuracy  essential  to,  x.  145 ; 
of  affection,  i.  100  ;  escapes  analy 
sis,  vi.  287  ;  Michael  Angelo  on,  xii. 
99,  116 ;  art  the  creation  of,  i.  28 ; 
ii.  329,  341 ;  vi.  279  ;  vii.  43 ;  bow 
of,  ix.  53  ;  comes  not  at  call,  ii.  342  ; 
we  find  what  we  carry,  334  ;  vi. 
140;  of  character,  i.  324;  x.  38; 
childhood's  cheat,  ix.  15 ;  in  neces 
sary  facts,  ii.  343  ;  corpse  has,  i.  22 ; 
creator,  iii.  13 ;  culture  opens  the 
sense  of,  vi.  152  ;  never  alone,  i.  29  ; 
definition  of,  vi.  274  ;  xii.  117  ;  des 
ert,  i.  164  ;  details,  iii.  223  ;  die  for, 
vi.  266;  ix.  233;  disgust,  242;  an 
end  in  itself,  i.  29 ;  elusive,  iii.  185  ; 
makes  endure,  vi.  280  ;  excuse  for, 
ix.  39 ;  xii.  172 ;  without  expres 
sion,  vi.  284  ;  eye  makes,  50 ;  face, 
moulded  to,  xii.  143;  the  mark  of 
fitness,  vi.  47,  275,  279 ;  vii.  55 ;  xi. 
341 ;  of  form  better  than  of  face, 
iii.  144 ;  unity  with  goodness,  iv. 
57  ;  vii.  291  ;  xii.  117,  132 ;  grace, 
viii.  79;  Greek  delighted  in,  309; 
is  health,  x.  46 ;  immersed  in,  ii. 
125,  330;  iii.  166;  inexplicable,  iii. 
21  ;  inspiration,  x.  250 ;  object  of 
intellect,  i.  28  ;  xi.  153  ;  intoxicates, 
x.  55 ;  of  landscape,  i.  164 ;  iii.  170 ; 
rides  lion,  vi.  279,  28G ;  leads  love, 
vi.  275  ;  love  of,  iii.  12,  120 ;  vi. 
281 ;  vii.  Ill,  284 ;  in  manners,  vi. 
187  ;  x.  38,  57 ;  love  of  measure, 
iii.  135 ;  has  a  moral  element,  vi. 
207,  290;  of  nature,  a  mirage,  i. 
25 ;  a  necessity  of  nature,  ii.  341 ; 
iii.  19,  170,  225;  iv.  12;  vi.  279; 
occasional,  vii.  122 ;  pilot  of  young 
soul,  vi.  275  ;  power,  iii.  143 ;  vii. 
165 ;  suggests  relation  to  the  whole 
world,  vi.  287  ;  rose  of,  51  ;  ix.  215 ; 
noble  sentiment  the  highest  form 
of,  x.  57,  261 ;  standard,  xii.  117 ; 
stone  grew  to,  ix.  16;  sufficient  to 
itself,  ii.  169 ;  law  of  table,  viii.  97  ; 
temperance,  ii.  19;  snaps  ties,  ix. 
97  ;  is  in  the  moment  of  transition, 
ii.  277 ;  bought  by  tragedy,  xii.  260 ; 
trinity  with  truth  and  goodness,  i. 
30  ;  xii.  119 ;  truth  in,  vi.  279 ;  xii. 
119 ;  universality,  i.  29  ;  ii.  218  ;  iv. 
42  ;  vi.  50,  283,  288  ;  in  use,  ii.  342  ; 
iii.  153,  157 ;  vi.  274 ;  mark  set  on 
virtue,  i.  25  ;  weed,  i.  62  ;  is  whole 
ness,  i.  21 ;  iii.  23 ;  xii.  118  ;  wo 
men,  vi.  281 ;  world,  xii.  11G;  love 
of,  keeps  us  young,  ii.  256. 

Becket,  Thomas  a,  v.  211 ;  viii.  207. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


281 


Beckford,  William,  v.  1GO ;  vi.  94. 

Bede,  Venerable,  v.  77  ;  vii.  197. 

Bedford,  Duke  of,  v.  170,  174. 

Beech,  x.  450. 

Bees,  bell  of,  ix.  55  ;  cell,  vi.  279  ;  dis 
turbing,  ii.  216;  familiarity  with, 
x.  440;  nothing  good  for  the  bee 
that  is  bad  for  the  hive,  183 ;  honey- 
making,  viii.  21  ;  hunters,  iii.  C5  ; 
men  compared  to,  v.  83 ;  xi.  247  ; 
orchards  resonant  with,  ix.  126  ; 
Plato's,  iv.  55;  leave  life  in  sting, 
v  iii.  260 ;  tawny  hummers,  ix.  86. 

Beggar,  the  soul  a,  vii.  289. 

Beginnings,  heap  of,  vii.  309. 

BEHAVIOR,  vi.  161-189;  finest  of  fine 
arts,  iii.  144;  laws  cannot  reach, 
vi.  166;  dress  mends,  viii.  87;  a 
garment,  80  ;  laws  of,  iii.  129  ;  nov 
els  teach,  vii.  204  ;  self-reliance  ba 
sis  of,  vi.  182  ;  substitutes  for,  viii. 
80  ;  women's  instinct  of,  iii.  145. 
See,  also,  Conduct,  Manners. 

Behmen,  Jacob,  egotism,  iii.  38,  180 ; 
healthily  wise,  iv.  136;  on  inspira 
tion,  viii.  263. 

Behooted  and  behowled,  i.  139. 

Being,  affirmative,  ii.  116;  excluding 
negation,  iii.  75 ;  preferred  to  doing, 
vi.  206  ;  realm  of,  ix.  292  ;  and  seem 
ing,  ii.  151 ;  sense  of,  64. 

Belief,  ages  of  belief  are  the  great 
ages,  vi.  207  ;  x.  198  ;  is  affirmation, 
iv.  172 ;  appears,  ii.  148  ;  as  deep  as 
life,  vi.  269 ;  impulse  to,  iii.  75 ; 
man  bears,  vi.  195 ;  makes  men,  x. 
241 ;  natural,  iv.  162,  195  ;  a  greater 
makes  unbelief,  i.  270. 

Bell,  church,  vii.  214,  281  ;  God  comes 
without,  ii.  255. 

Belle-Isle,  days  at,  vii.  173. 

Belzoni,  ii.  16 ;  iii.  117 ;  x.  16. 

Benedict,  vi.  223. 

Benefactors,  do  not  flatter  your  bene 
factors,  i.  319  ;  iii.  157  ;  misfortunes 
are,  ii.  112,  114,  121 ;  are  many, 
viii.  189 ;  become  malefactors,  iv. 
32 ;  wish  to  be,  iii.  263  ;  vii.  Ill, 
124. 

Benefit,  under  mask  of  calamities,  xi. 
424 ;  to  others,  contingent,  xii.  28  ; 
the  end  of  nature,  ii.  109 ;  xi.  388 ; 
law,  iii.  155  ;  not  to  be  set  down  in 
list,  102  ;  low,  and  high,  i.  131  ;  in 
direct,  iii.  158  ;  shower  of,  i.  326 ; 
true  and  false,  vii.  112. 

Benevolence,  is  life,  i.  123 ;  founda 
tion  of  manners,  iii.  138 ;  does  not 
consist  in  giving,  102,  148;  un 
happy,  ii.  129 ;  not  measured  by 
works,  iii.  101.  See,  also,  Charity. 


Bentley,  Richard,  ii.  146 ;  vii.  312. 

Benumb,  power  to,  vi.  255. 

Beranger,  quoted,  vi.  147  ;  vii.  303. 

Beridden  people,  vi.  273  ;  vii.  171. 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  anecdote  of,  iii.  259. 

Bernard,  St.,  i.  297;  ii.  118. 

BERRYING,  ix.  41  /. 

Beryl  beam,  vi.  265. 

Best,  index  of  what  should  be  the  aver 
age,  iii.  233  ;  love  of,  ix.  11 ;  we  are 
near,  iii.  224 ;  is  the  true,  268  ;  xi. 
190. 

Best  moments,  men  to  be  valued  by, 
vi.  273. 

Best  thing  easiest,  iv.  12. 

Best  way,  always  a,  vi.  163. 

Bethlehem,  heart,  ix.  G7 ;  star,  27G; 
x.  92. 

Bettine,  see  Arnim,  B.  von. 

Between  lines,  we  read,  viii.  187. 

Bias,  need  of,  iii.  G8,  225 ;  v.  137 ;  vi. 
17,  127,  253 ;  viii.  72,  134,  290,  291, 
293  ;  x.  143 ;  xii.  28. 

Bible,  not  closed,  i.  142  ;  iv.  25 ;  Eng 
lish  language  from,  v.  99 ;  iv.  191 ; 
literature  of  Europe,  vii.  186  ;  mil 
lenniums  to  make,  209 ;  viii.  173 ; 
rolled  from  heart  of  nature,  ix.  16  ; 
best  reading,  iii.  C5 ;  reverence  for, 
an  element  of  civilization,  iv.  46  ;  v. 
209 ;  and  science,  x.  317  ;  quoted  to 
justify  slavery,  xi.  220  ;  immortal 
sentences,  i.  148  ;  like  an  old  violin, 
viii.  173.  See  Scripture. 

Bible,  of  England,  v.  243 ;  for  heroes, 
x.  299;  of  the  learned,  iv.  41;  of 
opinions,  vi.  55 ;  for  soldiers,  xi. 
112. 

Bibles,  of  world,  vii.  208,  209;  viii. 
41 ;  we  must  write,  iv.  276. 

Bibliomania,  vii.  199. 

Bibulous  of  sea  of  light,  ii.  272. 

Bigotry,  a  spice  of,  needed,  iii.  178 ; 
xii.  49. 

Biography,  is  autobiography,  xi.  2G7  ; 
clumsy,  iv.  196 ;  to  be  generalized, 
ii.  25 ;  in  a  gift,  iii.  155 ;  is  history, 
ii.  15,  62,  311  ;  moral  of,  iv.  19 ; 
viii.  280 ;  of  soul,  vi.  268 ;  value,  i. 
156. 

Bipolarity,  iii.  96. 

BIRDS,  ix.  283 ;  almanac,  ix.  154 ;  au 
gur  and,  x.  19 ;  bring  auguries,  ix. 
268 ;  baggage,  277  ;  named  without 
gun,  ix.  78  ;  tell  history,  106  ;  what 
they  say,  vi.  2G7 ;  pairing,  an  idyl, 
iii.  29 ;  plumage,  has  a  reason,  vii. 
55 ;  punctual,  ix.  126 ;  sacred,  i. 
241 ;  language,  ix.  Ill,  306. 

Birmingham,  character,  v.  45,  97, 
242. 


282 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Birth,  elegance  conies  of,  iii.  143 ;  iv. 

65  ;  vi.  157,  169. 
Birthplace,  x.  194. 
Bishop,  English,  v.  213,  219. 
Biters,  small,  xi.  182. 
Blackberries,  ix.  42. 
Blackbirds,  ix.  38,  148. 
Black  coats,  company  of,  vii.  232. 
Black  drop  in  veins,  vi.  15. 
Black  events,  triumph  over,  ii.  299. 
Blair,  Hugh,  viii.  115. 
Blake,  William,  viii.  31 ;  quoted,  275, 

299. 

Blame,  safer  than  praise,  ii.  114. 
Blasphemer,  village,  i.  138. 
Bleaching  souls,  x.  207. 
Bleed  for  me,  iii.  155. 
Blessed  be  nothing,  ii.  294. 
Blessing  poor  land,  xi.  403. 
BLIGHT,  ix.  122  ff. 
Blind,  children  of,  see,  v.  64. 
Blinders,  horse  goes  better  with,  v. 

88 ;  xii.  47. 
Blind-man's-buff,  conformity  a,  ii.  57  ; 

x.  24. 

Bliss,  Rev.  Daniel,  xi.  69. 
Bloated  nothingness,  ii.  151 ;  vanity, 

xi.  197. 
Blockade,  Reform,  a  paper  blockade, 

i.  269. 

Blockheads,  vi.  255. 
Blonde  race,  v.  68. 
Blood,  all  of  one,  ii.  71 ;  prejudice  in 

favor  of,  vi.  169;  royal  blood  does 

not  pay,  x.  48 ;  surcharge,  vi.  69. 
Bloomer  costume,  vi.  278. 
Blossoming  in  stone,  ii.  25. 
Blot  on  world,  x.  188. 
Blows,  refreshed  by,  vi.  191. 
Bluebird,  ix.  148  ;  x.  450  ;  xii.  76. 
Blue-eyed  pet,  gentian,  ix.  87. 
Blue  glory  of  years,  vii.  1G6. 
Blumenbach,  on  races,  v.  47. 
Boa  constrictor,  iv.  76. 
Boasters,  i.  209  ;  vi.  11. 
Boat,  shape,  how  determined,  vii.  45 ; 

sky-cleaving,   ix.  66;    steering,  xii. 

Boccaccio,  the  Valdarfer,  vii.  200. 

Bodleian  Library,  v.  191,  195. 

Body,  human,  artist's  study  of,  xii. 
121 ;  caricatures  us,  vi.  283 ;  cus 
tody,  iii.  31 ;  expressiveness,  vi. 
170;  pass  hand  through,  viii.  25; 
type  of  house,  iv.  154 ;  magazine  of 
inventions,  vii.  151  ;  true  Lethe, 
xii.  78 ;  masks,  vii.  106  ;  mechan 
ical  aids  to,  153  ;  a  meter,  151 ;  mi 
crocosm,  vi.  121 ;  Plotinus  on,  430 ; 
property  like,  vi.  122;  and  mind, 
vii.  106;  and  soul,  ii.  101,  172;  iii. 


9,  32 ;  iv.  82 ;  vi.  163  ;  viii.  321 ; 
sound,  at  the  root  of  all  excellence, 
x.  46;  chest  of  tools,  viii.  136; 
world  and,  i.  68. 

BOECE,  ETIENNE  DE  LA,  ix.  76 /. 

BOHEMIAN  HYMN,  ix.  298 /. 

Bohn's  Library,  vii.  194. 

Bold,  be,  iv.  59. 

Bonaparte,  Napoleon.  See  Napoleon 
Bonaparte. 

Bone-house  called  man,  vii.  141,  213. 

Boniface,  burly,  vi.  67. 

Boniform  soul,  iv.  81. 

Book,  of  fashion,  iii.  147 ;  of  nature, 
vi.  20. 

BOOKS,  vii.  179-210;  i.  89-95;  each 
age  writes  its  own,  90  ;  not  same  to 
all,  ii.  141 ;  who  reads  all  may  read 
any,  viii.  298  ;  influence  on  authors, 
xii.  178  ;  bad,  easily  found,  vii.  181 ; 
bank  estimate  of,  181  ;  benefits, 
182 ;  viii.  185 ;  best,  notes  of,  184 ; 
burning,  ii.  115 ;  character  in,  x. 
191 ;  choice  in,  vii.  186  ;  for  closet, 
208  ;  many  but  commentators,  185 ; 
company  in,  ii.  142 ;  confidences, 
vii.  279 ;  conscience,  208  ;  convict 
us,  viii.  295 ;  criticism,  vii.  254 ; 
culture,  vi.  136;  vii.  186;  x.  141; 
debt  to,  vii.  182 ;  xii.  178 ;  deep, 
help  us  most,  viii.  280 ;  delight  in, 
i.  93;  vii.  188,  199;  dull,  i.  178; 
education  of,  vii.  183 ;  English,  v. 
39,  92  ;  in  experience,  vii.  182 ;  be 
long  to  eyes  that  see  them,  iii.  54 ; 
of  facts,  viii.  279 ;  fancies,  ix.  215 ; 
favorites,  iii.  104 ;  vii.  199 ;  are  few, 
ii.  315 ;  vii.  184 ;  for  the  few,  viii. 
208 ;  fragmentary,  iv.  100 ;  five 
Greek,  vii.  188  ;  growth,  xii.  24  ;  are 
for  the  scholar's  idle  times,  i.  92 ; 
imaginative,  iii.  35,  37 ;  vii.  202, 
204,  207;  immortality  in,  182;  in 
spiration,  viii.  279 ;  knowledge  from, 
vi.  267  ;  commentary  on  life,  ii.  13 ; 
consulted  instead  of  life,  x.  191 ;  the 
man  behind,  iv.  267 ;  mean,  187 ; 
method  of  reading,  vii.  185 ;  mirac 
ulous,  xii.  177 ;  all  written  by  one 
man,  iii.  222  ;  moral  power,  vii.  182  ; 
read  old,  vii.  187 ;  a  man  can  write 
but  one,  vi.  127 ;  outgrown,  viii. 
69 ;  permanent,  ii.  146 ;  smell  of 
pines,  59 ;  professor  of,  needed,  vii. 
183  ;  read  by  proxy,  209 ;  quotation, 
iv.  44  ;  reader  makes,  vii.  278,  279  ; 
viii.  185  ;  good  when  we  are  ready 
for  them,  vi.  137  ;  read  proudly,  iii. 
222  ;  resources,  viii.  169 ;  revolution 
dogging,  x.  242 ;  sacredness,  i.  90 ; 
semi-canonical,  vii.  208  ;  tire,  iii. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


283 


58 ;  theory  of,  i.  89 ;  all  thought  not 
in,  162  ;  abstraction  of  time  in,  93 ; 
time  for,  vii.  1G2 ;  time,  judge  of, 
187 ;  the  transcendental  in,  iii.  35 ; 
for  travelers,  v.  34 ;  viii.  279 ;  use, 
i.  91;  ii.  155;  viii.  274;  value,  i. 
90  ;  iii.  35  ;  viii.  225  ;  vocabularies, 
vii.  201 ;  prized  by  wise,  viii.  170  ; 
put  us  in  working  mood,  280 ;  ix. 
274 ;  world,  iv.  192 ;  for  youth,  x. 
141  ;  xii.  193.  See,  also,  Authors, 
Literature,  Reading. 

Boots,  become  fairies,  vi.  288  ;  do  not 
live  to  wear  out,  viii.  321. 

Boreal  fleece,  ix.  175. 

Bores,  we  find  our  account  in,  iii.  64. 

Borgia,  Caesar,  ii.  11. 

Born  again,  vi.  29. 

Born  red,  dies  gray,  ii.  238. 

Bom  too  soon,  viii.  205. 

Borrow,  George,  v.  219 ;  viii.  83. 

Borrowing,  ii.  108 ;  literary,  vii.  171, 
275;  viii.  174,182. 

Boscage,  i.  294. 

Boscovich,  quoted,  iii.  52. 

Boss,  viii.  135. 

BOSTON,  xii.  83-111. 

BOSTON  HYMN,  ix.  174-177. 

BOSTON  (poem),  ix.  182-187. 

Boston,  a  gate  of  America,  i.  350; 
copies  and  is  copied,  xi.  152 ;  cows 
laid  out,  vi.  119  ;  not  a  fair  share  of 
originality  of  thought,  xii.  104  ; 
never  wanted  a  good  principle  of 
rebellion,  103,  107  ;  slave-hunters 
in,  xi.  1GO ;  Unitarianism,  x.  196. 

Botanist,  finds  flowers  in  pavements, 
viii.  302 ;  quatrain  to,  ix.  239. 

Botany,  abortions  in,  viii.  152  ;  Goethe 
in,  iv.  262  ;  x.  319  ;  leaf,  unit  in,  iv. 
262 ;  metamorphosis  in,  viii.  14 ;  x. 
319  ;  is  all  names,  vi.  267  ;  ix.  123. 

Botany  Bay  children,  iii.  202. 

Bottle,  man  in,  vi.  270. 

Boufflers,  Chevalier  de,  quoted,  vi. 
240. 

Bounties  on  production,  vi.  104. 

Bow  and  arrow  times,  xi.  397. 

Bow,  of  beauty,  carve,  ix.  53  ;  strings 
to,  x.  40  ;  toy  with,  vi.  232 ;  ix.  267. 

Boxes,  universe  a  nest  of,  viii.  316. 

Box-turtle,  talk  with,  v.  213. 

Boy  and  Mantle,  story,  ii.  37. 

Boyishness  of  men,  vii.  120. 

Boys,  bad,  vi.  245 ;  and  cats,  xi.  183  ; 
characterized,  x.  137  ;  cleverness 
138  ;  country,  vii.  117  ;  debt  to  im 
aginative  books,  vi.  296 ;  x.  141 
delights,  146;  education,  vi.  134 
137 ;  viii.  125 ;  like  flies,  x.  137 
happiness  in  humble  life,  vii.  117 


holidays,  162 ;  love,  ii.  164 ;  man 
ners,  vi.  164;  masters  of  play 
ground,  x.  137 ;  nature  of,  142 ; 
and  new-comer,  ii.  149 ;  their  non 
chalance  the  healthy  attitude  of 
human  nature,  50 ;  early  old,  vii. 
117 ;  in  parlor,  ii.  50  ;  perceptions, 
x.  138 ;  poetry,  viii.  68 ;  reading,  iii. 
68. 

Bradshaw,  John,  iii.  107  ;  x.  411. 

Brag,  v.  143-146  ;  x.  170. 

BRAHMA,  ix.  170 /. 

Brains,  differences  of,  x.  47 ;  male 
and  female,  iv.  105. 

Brarnante,  xii.  133,  139. 

Brandy,  revenue  from,  vii.  34. 

Brant,  Joseph,  ii.  155. 

Brasidas,;i.  234;  vii.  79. 

Bravery,  xi.  200.     See,  also,  Courage. 

Bread,  not  the  aim,  i.  276 ;  ii.  211 ; 
xi.  331;  heavenly,  v.  243,  viii.  64; 
history  of,  iii.  60;  transubstantia- 
tion  of,  vi.  123 ;  viii.  38. 

Bride,  blow  from,  iv.  166;  danger,  as 
a,  i.  146;  of  Michael  Angelo,  xii. 
141 ;  solitude  as  a,  i.  168 ;  universe, 
iii.  78. 

Bridges,  aerial,  xii.  12,  38. 

Brisbane,  Albert,  x.  328. 

Bristed,  C.  A.,  quoted,  v.  196,  200. 

Britain.     See  England. 

British  Constitution,  i.  292. 

Brook  Farm,  sketch,  x.  338-347  ;  allu 
sions,  iii.  61,  229,  250 ;  vi.  67,  112 ; 
xii.  44,  99. 

Brook,  iii.  172. 

Brotherhood  with  men,  ii.  246 ;  xi. 
193. 

Brow,  language  of  the,  vi.  14;  vii. 
123. 

BROWN,  JOHN,  xi.  249-256;  257-263; 
on  courage,  vii.  255 ;  integrity,  xi. 
Ill ;  eloquence,  viii.  122  ;  xi.  311 ; 
memory,  xii.  77  ;  philanthropy,  viii. 
102 ;  Thoreau's  defense  of,  x.  429 ; 
and  Virginians,  vii.  256;  and  Gov. 
Wise,  255  ;  xi.  253. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  quoted,  viii.  53. 

Bruin  dance  of  Shakers,  vi.  226. 

Brummel,  Beau,  v.  Ill ;  x.  434. 

Brunei,  I.  K.,  vi.  118. 

Brutes.     See  Animals. 

Brutus,  ii.  240 ;  xi.  213. 

Buccaneers'  bargain,  xi.  185. 

Bud,  extrudes  the  old  leaf,  x.  181. 

Buddhism,  viii.  19. 

Buddhist,  thanks  no  man,  i.  319 ;  iii. 
157  ;  nature  no  B.,  225  ;  viii.  45. 

Bude-light,  vii.  36. 

Build  your  own  world,  i.  79. 

Builded  better  than  he  knew,  ix.  16. 


284 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Building,  taste  in,  vi.  276. 

Bulkeley,  Rev.  Edward,  xi.  G4,  6G,  80. 

Bulkeley,  Rev.  Peter,  xi.  35,  43,  59, 
64,  66  ;  xii.  93. 

Bull,  Mr.,  xii.  202. 

Bull-dog  bite,  xii.  70. 

Bull  Run,  battle,  xi.  108,  115. 

Bulwer,  v.  234  ;  xii.  227,  232. 

Buncombe,  x.  458. 

Bundles,  souls  not  saved  in,  vi.  205. 

Bunker  Hill,  Webster's  speech  at,  xi. 
209. 

Bunyan,  John,  viii.  32. 

Buonarotti.    See  Angelo,  Michael. 

Burglars,  vi.  29  ;  xii.  21. 

Burial  rites,  viii.  308-9. 

Burke,  Edmund,  v.  232,  236  ;  quoted, 
ii.  107  ;  vi.  90,  156 ;  vii.  136 ;  viii. 
19,  170  ;  x.  263  ;  xi.  215. 

Burnet,  Bishop,  quoted,  xi.  237. 

Burning,  all  things  burn,  vii.  140. 

BURNS,  ROBERT,  xi.  363-369  ;  common 
things  inspired,  i.  Ill ;  x.  56  ;  apos 
trophe  to  the  devil,  iv.  133  ;  x.  282  ; 
influence,  viii.  68;  a  Platonist,  v. 
228. 

Business,  i.  220 ;  ii.  Ill ;  vi.  75. 

Busybodies,  vii.  293  ;  x.  28. 

Busyrane,  inscription,  iv.  59. 

Butler,  Samuel,  Hudibras,  v.  223. 

Buttons,  friend's,  ii.  200. 

Buying,  vii.  107,  108. 

Buzz,  i.  264;  iii.  51. 

Byron,  xii.  227 ;  clarion  of  disdain, 
ix.  206 ;  xii.  236  ;  Platonist,  v.  228  ; 
xii.  186,  227;  quoted,  ii.  155;  v. 
222,  228;  rhetoric,  ii.  330;  and 
Scott,  viii.  300 ;  subjectiveness,  xii. 


Cabalism,  iv.  30  ;  v.  213  ;  xi.  407. 

Cabanis,  quoted,  iv.  147. 

Cabman  a  phrenologist,  vi.  14. 

Caesar,  Julius,  admired,  iv.  27 ;  en 
durance,  xii.  126 ;  a  gentleman,  iii. 
123 ;  intellectual,  vi.  152 ;  in  irons, 
iii.  94  ;  estimate  of  life,  260  ;  called 
his  house  Rome,  i.  79 ;  well-read, 
vi.  136. 

Cain,  x.  213. 

Calamity,  our  friend,  ii.  119,  247,  300  ; 
vi.  39,  155 ;  xi.  424.  See,  also,  Ac 
cidents,  Disasters,  Misfortune. 

Calculators,  nature  hates,  iii.  70. 

Calendar,  of  flowers  and  birds,  ix. 
154 ;  Thoreau's,  x.  438.  See,  also, 
Almanac. 

California,  gold  discovery,  vi.  242 ; 
government,  xi.  247 ;  what  money 
will  buy  in,  101. 

Call,  preacher's,  i.  134 ;  talent  a,  ii.  134. 


Calls,  limit  to,  viii.  90. 

Calomel  of  cultm-e,  x.  151. 

Calvinism,  age  of,  x.  196 ;  and  Armini- 
anism,  311 ;  culture,  xii.  96 ;  doomed, 
x.  116;  drill,  vii.  95;  fatalism,  vi. 
11 ;  fruits,  x.  373 ;  from  diseased 
liver,  iii.  55  ;  mordant,  x.  Ill ;  in 
Plato,  iv.  42  ;  revivals,  ii.  265  ;  safe 
guard,  iii.  202 ;  same  everywhere, 
x.  107 ;  its  shadow,  viii.  311 ;  vin 
dictive,  x.  105. 

Cambridge  University,  v.  191. 

Camper,  Pieter,  viii.  160. 

Camping  out,  ix.  161. 

Candle,  the  scholar  a,  vii.  16. 

Cannon  in  a  parlor,  viii.  117. 

Cannonade,  Walden's,  ix.  146. 

Cant,  English,  v.  218,  219 ;  provokes 
common  sense,  xi.  245 ;  American, 
400. 

Capdeuil,  Pons,  quoted,  vii.  288  ;  viii. 
41,  61. 

Cape  Cod  farm,  xi.  403. 

Capital  punishment,  iii.  200 ;  xii.  104. 

Capitalists,  we  must  be,  vi.  122. 

Capuchins  of  19th  century,  ii.  32. 

Carlini,  anecdote  of,  viii.  166. 

Carlisle,  Countess  of,  x.  372. 

CARLYLE,  THOMAS,  x.  453-463 ;  PAST 
AND  PRESENT,  xii.  237-248  ;  brag,  v. 
146;  conversation,  x.  455;  cham 
pion  of  modern  England,  xii.  247 ; 
preacher  of  fate,  v.  237  ;  love  of  he 
roic,  ii.  233  ;  historian,  i.  165  ;  real 
ism,  111;  style,  xii.  246;  quota 
tions,  186;  rhetoric,  ii.  330;  xii. 
247;  at  Stonehenge,  v.  259;  visit 
to,  8,  18  ;  Wordsworth  on,  24  ;  cele 
brates  the  laws  of  decay,  237. 

Carnival,  America  a,  iii.  40 ;  world  a, 
vi.  296  ;  vii.  10,  163. 

Carpets,  i.  233. 

Carrion,  converts  itself  to  flowers,  iv. 
133. 

Carts,  ii.  221. 

Caryatides,  of  the  temple  of  conven 
tions,  xii.  254. 

CASELLA,  ix.  243. 

Cassandra,  x.  404. 

Castalian  water,  kills,  v.  198 ;  xi.  228. 

Caste,  iii.  127 ;  iv.  65 ;  vii.  113;  x.  36. 

Castles,  in  air,  better  than  dungeons, 
vi.  251 ;  xii.  42  ;  English,  v.  183. 

Casual,  success  is,  iii.  70. 

Catacombs,  viii.  309. 

Catechisms,  ii.  292 ;  iv.  117,  171 ;  x. 
31. 

Cathedrals,  ii.  17,  22,  25;  v.  206;  vii. 
56,  58 ;  ix.  144. 

Catholicity,  vii.  30,  33;  viii.  295;  x. 
42. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


285 


Caucus,  xi.  234,  352,  413. 

Causationists,  all  successful  men  are 
causationists,  vi.  56. 

Cause,  and  effect,  the  chancellors  of 
God,  ii.  87  ;  give  the  true  connec 
tion  that  cannot  be  severed,  100, 
215,  283,  293;  iv.  162;  v.  232;  vi. 
56  ;  x.  14 ;  xi.  390 ;  xii.  69 ;  final,  i. 
52;  first,  ii.  70;  iii.  74;  iv.  177; 
vii.  172 ;  search  for,  i.  191 ;  skepti 
cism  is  unbelief  in  cause  and  effect, 
vi.  210. 

"  Causes,"  made  up  into  little  cakes 
to  suit  purchasers,  i.  329. 

Cavendish,  Thomas,  quoted,  xi.  185. 

Celts,  v.  50,  57. 

Cenobite,  i.  231. 

Censors,  need  of,  vi.  212. 

Census,  no  criterion  of  the  popula 
tion,  vi.  236. 

Cent,  representative,  iii.  197  ;  x.  30. 

Centigraded  man,  x.  37. 

Centrality,  ii.  61,  297 ;  iii.  98 ;  iv.  15, 
103;  vii.  219,  278;  viii.  44,  71,  179, 
210,  211,  287. 

Centrifugal  forces,  i.  281 ;  iii.  31. 

Centuries,  what  they  say,  iv.  176; 
days  as,  \i.  235;  viii.  318. 

Cerberus,  cakes  to,  vi.  193. 

Ceremony,  i.  371 ;  iii.  122  ;  xi.  341. 

Cervantes,  x.  56  ;  xi.  367. 

Chair,  should  hold  a  king,  iii.  133. 

Chance,  ii.  87 ;  iii.  71 ;  iv.  163 ;  none 
in  the  universe,  vi.  308. 

Change,  i.  55 ;  iii.  58  ;  v.  109  ;  viii.  10, 
190 

Channels,  men  are,  iii.  230,  267. 

Channing,  Dr.  William  Ellery,  x.  162, 
222,  312,  320-322 ;  quoted,  iv.  177. 

CHANNING,  WILLIAM  HENRY,  ODE  TO, 
ix.  71 ;  allusions  to,  x.  322,  342. 

Chapman,  George,  vii.  189 ;  viii.  52 ; 
quoted,  iii.  34. 

CHARACTER,  iii.  87-113;  x.  91-121; 
lines,  ix.  231 ;  like  acrostic,  ii.  59 ; 
all  interested  in,  x.  38;  analysis, 
xii.  208;  identified  with  the  soul, 
iii.  217  ;  body  expresses,  ii.  150 ;  iii. 
18,  268 ;  vi.  15 ;  in  books,  x.  191  ; 
a  matter  of  climate,  171  ;  conceal 
ment  impossible,  ii.  150 ;  conversa 
tion  the  vent  of,  vii.  223  ;  cumula 
tive,  ii.  60;  in  dark,  iii.  Ill;  de 
fined,  95,  103  ;  vi.  176  ;  xii.  108  ; 
x.  119,  190;  not  organic,  iii.  256; 
habit  of  dealing  directly,  92; 
emitted  in  events,  ii.  147  ;  vi.  45, 
216  ;  developed  by  evil,  242  ;  let  ex 
pense  proceed  from,  109  ;  vii.  107  ; 
force,  cumulative,  ii.  60 ;  gauges 
of,  i.  337  ;  growth,  iii.  101  ;  house, 


shows,  vii.  108,  123 ;  we  exaggerate, 
iii.  217  ;  influence,  ii.  268 ;  iii.  108, 
207;  higher  than  intellect,  i.  99; 
viii.  300;  inventory  of,  iii.  56; 
known,  i.  122 ;  magnetism,  iii.  90 ; 
vii.  287 ;  music-box,  iii.  55 ;  in  poli 
tics,  206 ;  xi.  402  ;  opinions  are  con 
fession  of,  vi.  214 ;  perception  con 
verted  into,  32 ;  i.  211 ;  preferred 
to  performance,  vi.  206 ;  power,  i. 
156;  ii.  299;  development  of,  xii. 
235 ;  in  prayers,  213 :  hedged  by 
odium,  vi.  155;  relations  from, 
vii.  123 ;  religion  is  knowing,  iii. 
112;  x.  203;  a  reserved  force,  iii. 
90;  revelation  of,  vi.  216,  218;  x. 
16 ;  romance  of,  iii.  143 ;  sifting  of, 
130 ;  simplicity  the  basis  of,  vi. 
305 ;  x.  171 ;  xii.  58 ;  self-sufficing- 
ness,  iii.  98 ;  x.  121  ;  and  talent,  ii. 
299;  vi.  208,  244;  vii.  176;  x.  265; 
trusted,  viii.  84 ;  a  mechanical  tune, 
iii.  55 ;  victories,  vi.  184 ;  teaches 
above  our  wills,  ii.  59;  is  a  will 
built  on  the  reason  of  things,  x. 
103  ;  habit  of  action  from  the  per 
manent  vision  of  truth,  119,  190. 

CHARDON  STREET  CONVENTION,  x.  349- 
354. 

Charity,  divine,  i.  19  ;  human,  ii.  246 ; 
iii.  149 ;  iv.  173 ;  vi.  237  ;  vii.  137 ; 
wicked  dollar  given  to  miscellaneous 
public  charities,  ii.  53. 

Charivari,  vi.  297  ;  viii.  80. 

Charlemagne,  anecdote,  v.  58. 

Charles  I.  of  England,  v.  203. 

Charles  II.  of  England,  ii.  273 ;  v.  41, 
167. 

Charles  V.,  Emperor,  i.  158;  x.  263. 

Charles  XII.  of  Sweden,  vii.  252. 

Charles  River,  xii.  88. 

Charon,  iv.  128. 

CHARTIST'S  COMPLAINT,  ix.  197. 

Chastity,  viii.  35. 

Chat  Moss,  v.  94 ;  vii.  145. 

Chateaubriand,  quoted,  x.  105. 

Chatham,  Lord.  i.  197  ;  ii.  60  ;  quoted, 
v.  109,  142. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  v.  243 ;  a  bor 
rower,  iv.  189 ;  and  Coke,  vi.  128 ; 
genius,  iv.  188 ;  gladness,  i.  93 ;  iv. 
206;  grasp,  v.  223;  humanity,  ii. 
270;  imagination,  iii.  34;  iv.  206; 
influence,  iv.  188 ;  inspiration,  viii. 
279  ;  nature  in,  i.  163 ;  Plutarch,  x. 
281 ;  richness,  iii.  43 ;  self -naming, 
viii.  239;  and  Wordsworth,  xii. 
226  ;  quoted,  iii.  34  ;  vi.  11,  48,  198. 

Chauncy,  Dr.  Charles,  eloquence,  viii. 
124. 

Cheapness,  of  men,  iv.  34 ;  vii.  169. 


286 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Cheating,  ii.  110,  114;  fear  of  being 
cheated  and  fear  of  cheating,  vi.  206. 

Cheerfulness,  iii.  270  ;  iv.  205  ;  v.  125 ; 
vi.  153,  250-252;  \ii.  278,  288;  x. 
250. 

Chemist,  makes  sugar  of  shirts,  vi. 
249;  meeting,  vii.  225;  time  a,  ix. 
121. 

Chemistry,  agricultural,  i.  360;  vii. 
138,  143 ;  charm,  viii.  11  ;  takes  to 
pieces,  vi.  268 ;  of  eloquence,  viii. 
126 ;  secondary,  21 ;  on  higher  plane, 
vi.  210  ;  vii.  19  ;  of  spring,  ix.  158 ; 
apes  vegetation,  vi.  294 ;  world's, 
iv.  120. 

Cherubim,  ii.  321 ;  iii.  59 ;  of  destiny, 
vi.  29. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  x.  63;  xii.  152; 
quoted,  v.  116  ;  viii.  86, 121 ;  x.  164. 

Childhood,  the  age  of  Gold,  ii.  41. 

Children,  vii.  101-104;  guardian  an 
gels  of,  iv.  33;  attitudes,  viii.  82; 
charm,  vii.  103  ;  not  deceived,  vi. 
218 ;  delight  in,  299  ;  love  of  dirt,  x. 
345;  discipline,  iii.  205;  x.  142; 
education,  i.  121;  ii.  262;  iii.  60, 
178  ;  vi.  62 ;  vii.  102  ;  viii.  203,  215 ; 
love  of  exaggeration,  x.  169 ;  faces, 
vi.  272  ;  fairy-tales,  xii.  233  ;  fears, 
ii.  140 ;  vii.  243 ;  of  gods,  107  ;  good, 
die  young,  vi.  246 ;  home,  vii.  104, 
109;  horizon,  vi.  253;  hospitality 
suffers  from,  vii.  109  ;  illusions, 
vi.  299 ;  imaginative,  vii.  202 ;  x. 
146 ;  xii.  233 ;  softening  influence,  ii. 
96  ;  inspiration,  x.  142 ;  language, 
i.  32 ;  viii.  135,  189 ;  fear  of  life 
without  end,  314;  love  masks,  xii. 
54 ;  memory,  71 ;  believe  in  exter 
nal  world,  i.  63 ;  nonconformists, 
iii.  104 ;  iv.  33 ;  x.  143 ;  oracles,  ii. 
49 ;  picture-books,  vii.  103  ;  provi 
dence  for,  101 ;  repression,  ii.  32  ; 
x.  307;  respect  for,  142;  their 
reverence,  153-198 ;  love  of  rhyme, 
viii.  48 ;  self-reliance,  ii.  50 ;  toys, 
iii.  32,  178;  vii.  103;  vehemence, 
iv.  47  ;  voices,  vii.  286.  See,  also, 
Babe,  Boys,  Girls. 

Chimborazo,  poet  a,  iii.  15. 

China,  emperor's  annual  sowing,  viii. 
294 ;  woman  in,  xi.  346. 

Chinese,  in  California,  viii.  139 ;  quo 
tations,  iii.  108 ;  xi.  296. 

Chivalry,  lies  in  courtesy,  ii.  22;  iii. 
118,  128,  147 ;  vii.  30 ;  liberty  the 
modern,  xi.  229. 

Choice,  of  occupation,  i.  225 ;  willful 
and  constitutional,  ii.  133;  in  con 
duct,  iv.  182  ;  x.  94,  189. 

Cholera,  safeguard  against,  vi.  221. 


Chores,  vii.  32,  116. 

Christ.    See  Jesus  Christ. 

Christianity,  advantages,  i.  147 ;  al 
loyed,  x.  106 ;  not  in  the  catechism, 
ii.  292 ;  in  one  child,  x.  100 ;  signi 
fied  culture,  vi.  197 ;  old  as  crea 
tion,  xi.  388;  defect,  i.  129;  the 
doctrine,  as  distinguished  from  su 
pernatural  claims,  390;  ethics,  x. 
114 ;  xi.  25,  271 ;  xii.  162  ;  excellence, 
x.  219 ;  not  a  finality,  ii.  292 ;  hea 
thenism  in,  vi.  200 ;  historical,  de 
stroys  power  to  preach,  i.  139  ;  lost, 
142 ;  vi.  200 ;  miraculous  claims, 
x.  106;  xi.  25,  390;  an  Eastern 
monarchy,  i.  129 ;  no  monopoly,  130 ; 
a  mythus,  128  ;  opinions  in,  x.  194 ; 
paganism  in,  110 ;  a  protest,  106 ; 
preaching,  i.  139;  and  other  reli 
gions,  viii.  174 ;  xi.  391 ;  vigor  lost 
by,  ii.  84. 

Chronology,  a  kitchen  clock,  viii.  202. 

Church,  as  amusement,  iii.  254;  au 
thority,  239,  265  ;  beneficent,  x. 
117,  218,  228,  355 ;  Calvinistic  and 
liberal,  iii.  265 ;  x.  116 ;  clergy  fall 
ing  from,  238 ;  cramps,  xi.  382 ; 
early  customs,  18 ;  doctrines,  ii. 
52  ;  externality,  vi.  201 ;  false  sen 
timent,  iii.  249 :  famine,  i.  134 ;  his 
tory,  xi.  383;  leaving,  iii.  249;  of 
one  member,  xi.  389  ;  clings  to  the 
miraculous,  x.  114 ;  not  necessary, 
vi.  195 ;  new,  229 ;  opinions  on,  iv. 
151 ;  outgrown,  xi.  382 ;  now  in  re 
form  movements,  iii.  239 ;  religion 
and,  265 :  vi.  226  ;  saints  persecuted 
by,  v.  203 ;  the  scholar  is,  x.  238 ; 
scientific,  vi.  229 ;  sepulchre,  viii. 
310;  services,  i.  138;  the  silent 
church,  before  service,  ii.  71 ;  and 
slavery,  x.  114 ;  and  soul,  i.  141 ; 
stinginess,  xi.  391 ;  tottering,  i.  134 ; 
value,  x.  193,  195;  the  wise  need 
none,  iii.  206;  withered,  iv.  117; 
yoke,  ii.  129. 

Church,  bells,  vii.  281 ;  building,  ii. 
54  ;  going  to,  i.  136,  141. 

Cicero,  de  Senectute,  vii.  297. 

Cid,  vii.  189,  207  ;  viii.  29,  295 ;  x.  45 ; 
xi.  262. 

Cineas,  question  of,  xi.  326. 

Circe,  iii.  140,  227. 

CIRCLES,  ii.  279-300 ;  iv.  107  ;  vii.  138. 

Circumstances,  depend  on  the  man,  i. 
266,  316;  ii.  61;  iii.  96;  vi.  295; 
vii.  115 ;  xi.  192  ;  a  costume,  i.  158 ; 
ii.  116, 120 ;  x.  141,  385 ;  power  and, 
vi.  19;  robber-troops  of,  viii.  233; 
trust  not  in,  xi.  190. 

Circumstantial  evidence,  x.  449. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


287 


Cities,  make  us  artificial,  vii.  148  ;  at 
tractions,  vi.  58,  142;  not  the  cer 
tificate  of  civilization,  vii.  35 ;  ef 
fects  and  causes  of  civilization,  xi. 
106 ;  reinforced  from  the  country, 
i.  24 ;  iii.  126  ;  vi.  142 ;  vii.  136  ;  ix. 
169,  214 ;  cramp,  iii.  165  ;  dangers, 
vi.  212 ;  degrade,  147  ;  estimates, 
iii.  1G3;  hiding  in,  vi.  212;  influ 
ence,  vii.  148  ;  x.  252  ;  xii.  89 ;  take 
the  nonsense  out  of  a  man,  vi.  143  ; 
are  phalansteries,  x.  330  ;  clubs 
only  in,  vii.  230 ;  solitude  in,  i.  13, 
169;  stars  in,  13;  embodiment  of 
thought,  vi.  46 ;  permanent  tone, 
xii.  108 ;  trade  sows,  ix.  25 ;  walk 
ing,  vi.  45. 

City  of  God,  i.  13;  iii.  171. 

City  state,  Massachusetts,  xii.  107. 

CIVILIZATION,  vii.  21-37;  armies 

carry,  xi.  106 ;  barbarities,  152 ; 
cities  its  first  effects,  106  ;  defini 
tion,  vii.  23;  dress  the  mark  of, 
viii.  86;  ours  English,  x.  173;  xi. 
152 ;  train  of  felonies,  iv.  176 ;  he 
roic,  xi.  152,  279  ;  history,  iii.  118 ; 
x.  126;  xi.  408;  in  its  infancy,  iii. 
207 ;  vi.  295  ;  man  the  test  of,  vii. 
34;  xi.  419;  meters  of,  x.  173;  a 
mistake,  335 ;  none  without  a  deep 
morality,  vii.  30 ;  mounts,  156  ;  no 
isolated  perfection,  xi.  173 ;  of  one 
race  impossible  while  another  race 
is  degraded,  173 ;  railroads  plant, 
vii.  154 ;  a  reagent,  v.  51 ;  sleepy, 
xi.  397  ;  styles,  152 ;  triumphs,  ii. 
82 ;  vii.  159  ;  xi.  325  ;  in  the  United 
States,  viii.  74 ;  xi.  279  ;  woman  the 
index  of,  vii.  27  ;  xi.  340. 

CIVILIZATION,  AMERICAN,  xi.  275,  290. 

Clarendon,  Lord,  vii.  84 ;  quoted,  iv. 
19  ;  v.  69  ;  vii.  118. 

Class,  best,  in  society,  viii.  99. 

Classics,  iii.  245. 

Classification,  i.  87 ;  ii.  17 ;  vii.  310 ; 
pedantry  of,  viii.  160. 

Claude  Lorraine  glasses,  vi.  299. 

Claverhouse,  vi.  168. 

Clergy,  character  of,  i.  95 ;  X.  115  ;  xi. 
351 ;  their  bronchitis,  vi.  270 ;  x. 
220  ;  changed,  108,  238 ;  their  fitting 
companions,  vi.  250,  271 ;  emanci 
pation  of,  x.  116;  embarrassments, 
225;  English,  v.  210,  213;  New 
England,  xi.  75 ;  opportunity,  x. 
221 ;  in  politics,  xi.  351 ;  position,  i. 
95,  139;  their  duty  self-possession, 
x.  221 ;  similarity,  220 ;  subservi 
ency,  220;  teachers,  222;  visits,  i. 
143;  vii.  215;  voice,  vi.  270; 
Wordsworth  on,  v.  208. 


Climate,  English,  v.  41,  94;  coal  a 
portable,  vi.  86;  influence,  vii.  29, 
69,  143,  144;  x.  171;  xii.  85,  97; 
sword  of,  vi.  13. 

Clio's  shell,  viii.  272  ;  ix.  278. 

Cloaks  of  character,  ii.  38  ;  vii.  119. 

Clocks,  vegetable,  i.  24 ;  geological, 
viii.  202. 

Clothes.    See  Dress. 

Cloud,  bars  of,  i.  23  ;  ii.  201 ;  cannot 
be  cut  down,  x.  449 ;  eating,  i.  327  ; 
flocks,  48 ;  forms,  ii.  23,  125 ;  part 
ing,  iii.  73;  purple  awning,  xi.  33; 
purple-piled,  ix.  153 ;  rack  of,  iii. 
225;  vi.  295;  we  regard,  ii.  213; 
sable  pageantry,  ix.  218 ;  summer, 
iii.  184;  sunset,  167;  tent  of,  i. 
18. 

CLUBS,  vii.  211-236;  transcendental, 
ii.  129 ;  manners  make,  vi.  165,  260 ; 
scholars,  vii.  210;  must  be  exclu 
sive,  viii.  89 ;  scientific,  xii.  7. 

Coal,  and  civilization,  x.  173 ;  porta 
ble  climate,  vi.  86 ;  idealizes,  xi. 
423;  stored  up  sunshine,  x.  73; 
work,  vii.  153 ;  viii.  262. 

Coat,  of  climate,  i.  18 ;  of  philosophy, 
iv.  153;  of  hair,  vi.  115. 

Cobbett,  William,  quoted,  v.  108. 

Cobden,  Richard,  vi.  78. 

Cobweb,  cloth  of  manners,  viii.  80; 
clews,  ix.  219. 

COCKAYNE,  v.  140-148 ;  vi.  117. 

Cockering,  iii.  153 ;  v.  188  ;  vi.  248. 

Cohesion,  social,  vi.  194. 

Coincidences,  viii.  51 ;  x.  15,  27. 

Coke,  Lord,  v.  171 ;  vi.  128. 

Cold,  inconsiderate  of  persons,  vi.  12, 
36  ;  viii.  274  ;  ix.  200. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  T.,  American  ap 
preciation  of,  xii.  98  ;  characterized, 
v.  236  ;  his  definitions,  xii.  210  ;  and 
Edinburgh  Review,  v.  279 ;  on  fear 
in  battle,  vii.  247  ;  on  French,  v. 
236  ;  on  infancy,  vii.  102  ;  and  Lan- 
dor,  xii.  210 ;  on  poetry,  226  ;  and 
Shakespeare,  vii.  50 ;  subjective- 
ness,  xii.  186  ;  visit  to,  v.  8,  13 ;  on 
woman,  viii.  92  ;  xi.  337  ;  quoted,  i. 
49  ;  x.  238. 

Coliseum,  vii.  57. 

Colleges,  advantages,  vi.  139;  x.  148; 
iii.  246  ;  one  benefit  of,  to  show 
their  little  avail,  vi.  139 ;  festivals, 
vii.  120,  162;  libraries,  183;  natu 
ral,  iii.  247;  x.  147;  reading,  vii. 
183;  rules,  ii.  308;  office  of,  i.  94, 
99 ;  x.  148 ;  in  civil  war,  246 ;  wit 
better  than  wealth  in,  i.  95. 

Collingwood,  Lord,  v.  69,  86,  120. 

Collignon,  Auguste,  iv.  155. 


288 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Collins,  William,  viii.  57 ;  ix.  206. 

Colonists,  stuff  for,  vi.  245. 

Colonna,  Vittoria,  viii.  206  ;  xii.  137. 

Color,  vii.  282. 

Columbia  of  thought,  xi.  329;  xii. 
101. 

Columbus,  Christopher,  adaptation  to 
his  work,  vi.  42  ;  has  given  a  chart 
to  every  ship,  iv.  18  ;  discoveries,  ii. 
84 ;  iii.  81 ;  xi.  329  ;  eloquence,  vii. 
82;  fury  to  complete  his  map,  vi. 
93;  lonely,  vii.  13;  one  in  a  thou 
sand  years,  iv.  79 ;  perception,  xi. 
192 ;  needs  planet,  ii.  39 ;  reason  of 
his  voyage,  i.  345 ;  time  fit  for,  vi. 
41 ;  tobacco,  301 ;  at  Veragua,  vii. 
269  ;  sails  wisdom,  55. 

Columns,  the  poetry  of,  vi.  279. 

Come-outers,  i.  262 ;  x.  352. 

Comedy,  viii.  151. 

Comfort,  vi.  148  ;  vii.  108. 

COMIC,  THE,  viii.  149-166. 

Comma,  alive,  iv.  268. 

Command,  iii.  94  ;  viii.  291 ;  x.  120. 

Commander,  because  he  is  com 
manded,  i.  253  ;  vii.  80  ;  viii.  87  ;  x. 
48,  153  ;  xii.  238. 

Commandments,  keeping  the,  iii.  66  ; 
v.  102  ;  begin  where  we  will,  we  are 
soon  mumbling  our  ten  command 
ments,  ii.  227. 

Commerce,  beneficent  tendency,  i. 
184,  350,  354  ;  of  trivial  import,  ii. 
295 ;  iii.  66 ;  vi.  64,  87,  98,  107  ;  po 
etry  of,  x.  172  ;  selfish,  i.  220. 

Commines,  Philip  de,  quoted,  v.  82 ; 
viii.  119. 

Commodities,  i.  18,  47,  226 ;  ii.  196  ; 
vi.  274. 

Common  sense,  i.  176 ;  ii.  220 ;  iii. 
176 ;  vi.  99 ;  astonishes,  vii.  275  ;  is 
perception  of  matter,  viii.  9;  re 
straining  grace  of,  26 ;  xi.  421 ;  as 
rare  as  genius,  iii.  69. 

Common  things,  poetry  of,  i.  55,  110 ; 
iv.  55 ;  vii.  169 ;  xii.  40. 

Communism,  Communities,  i.  359 ; 
iii.  252;  vi.  67;  x.  183,  325;  xii. 
251 ;  the  members  will  be  fractions 
of  men,  iii.  251.  See,  also,  Associa 
tions,  Brook  Farm. 

Compact,  highest,  vi.  184. 

Companions,  iii.  63  ;  vi.  130,  256,  259/; 
vii.  216,  218,  230,  232 ;  viii.  88. 

Company,  adaptedness,  vii.  228  ;  bad, 
i.  327 ;  defects,  iii.  63 ;  desire  for, 
64 ;  viii.  90  ;  evening,  vi.  177  ;  good, 
vii.  222 ;  viii.  89  ;  x.  139 ;  high,  of 
soul,  275 ;  limitations,  ii.  198 ;  low, 
liking  for,  vii.  232  ;  self -distribution 
in,  19 ;  need  not  show  cause  for 


seeking  or  shunning,  ii.  53  ;  forced 
smile  in,  56  ;  sufferers  in,  vii.  220 ; 
paralysis  of  unfit,  xii.  24. 

COMPENSATION,  ii.  89-122 ;  ix.  77,  229. 

of  actions,  ii.  281 ;  belief  in,  vi. 

56  ;  pay  debts,  x.  128 ;  for  errors, 
iv.  154;  fatal,  vii.  306;  of  friend 
ship,  iii.  262 ;  for  evils  of  govern 
ment,  vi.  63  ;  illustrations,  241  ;  of 
infirmities,  iii.  266 ;  memory,  xii. 
74  ;  nature  a,  vii.  280 ;  old  age,  309 ; 
pain  has  its  compensations,  xii. 
270 /;  in  trade,  vi.  107;  of  uni 
verse,  i.  231. 

Competitions,  iv.  27. 

Complainers,  i.  235 ;  vi.  148,  188. 

Complaisance,  i.  155,  209. 

Complexion,  in  old  age,  vii.  309 ;  xi. 
348. 

Compliance,  ii.  199  ;  iii.  82. 

Compliments,  the  highest,  i.  276;  ii. 

Composure,  iii.  129  ;  viii.  85. 
Compromises,   ii.    190 ;    vi.   203 ;    xi. 

283,  404. 
Compunctions,    time    wasted    in,   iv. 

132. 
Concealment,   ii.  151 ;   of  what  does 

not    concern   us,   iii.   231  ;    no,   vi. 

212. 
Conceit,  the  distemper  of,  ii.  113  ;  vi. 

128,  133  ;  vii.  278  ;  viii.  104. 
Concentration,  i.  223 ;  iv.  225  ;  v.  86 ; 

vi.  74,  75,  127;   viii.  294;   x.   261; 

xii.  47,  53. 


Concert  in  action,  ii 


16. 


Concini's  wife,  iii.  94. 

CONCORD,  HISTORICAL  DISCOURSE,  xi. 
31-97. 

HYMN,  ix.  139. 

ODE,  ix.  173. 

SOLDIERS'  MONUMENT,  ADDRESS, 

xi.  99-128. 

Committee  of  Safety,  x.  357, 

note;  drainage  at,  vii.  144 /;  fairy 
tales  true  at,  ii.  38  ;  Kossuth  at,  xi. 
359 ;  Plain,  ix.  213  ;  Revolution  not 
begun  in,  i.  209 ;  River,  iii.  166  ;  ix. 
128 ;  social  circle,  x.  357,  note. 

Conde",  Prince  of,  vii.  252. 

Condillac,  quoted,  i.  313. 

Condition,  i.  10;  equalizes  itself,  ii. 
96;  favorable,  viii.  257.  262;  every 
man's  condition  an  answer  to  the 
inquiries  he  would  put,  i.  10. 

Conduct,  vi.  9  ;  vii.  239  ;  x.  199.  See, 
also,  Behavior,  Manners. 

Confessionals,  two,  ii.  73. 

Confidence,  vi.  184.  See,  also,  Cour 
age,  Self-Confidence,  Trust. 

Conformity,   scatters   your   force,  i. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


289 


143,  232 ;  ii.  51,  55,  56,  60,  61 ;  iii. 
99,  244 ;  v.  27,  217  ;  ix.  266  ;  xi.  404. 
See,  also,  Consistency,  Custom, 
Fashion. 

Confucius,  and  Christianity,  viii.  174  ; 
genius,  vii.  186 ;  inspiration,  viii. 
261;  xii.  184;  quoted,  ii.  151;  v. 
260  ;  viii.  85,  98,  174,  203,  261  ;  x. 
117,  120 ;  xii.  96. 

Congress,  of  nations,  xi.  201 ;  U.  S.,  v. 
290  ;  vii.  76  ;  xi.  162,  353. 

Conquer,  they  can  who  believe  they 
can,  vii.  248 ;  viii.  142. 

Conquest,  true,  ii.  299. 

Conscience,  i.  223,  285;  essentially 
absolute,  historically  limited,  286; 
disconsolate,  iii.  66 ;  ix.  78 ;  agree 
ment  of,  203 ;  vii.  208 ;  xi.  333 ;  li 
cense  breeds,  vi.  65 ;  not  good  for 
hands,  67. 

Conscientiousness,  hair-splitting,  i. 
252 ;  x.  344. 

Consciousness,  the  double,  vi.  49;  a 
sliding  scale,  iii.  74. 

Consecutiveness,  the  need  of,  xii.  48, 
147. 

Consequences,  disdain  of,  xi.  199. 

CONSERVATIVE,  THE,  i.  277-307. 

Conservatism,  its  basis  fate,  i.  255- 
284 ;  iii.  201,  234,  258  ;  assumes  sick 
ness  as  a  necessity,  301 ;  iv.  163, 
213,  243;  vi.  18,  65;  xi.  217,  218. 
See,  also,  Democracy,  Radicalism. 

CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY,  vi.  231- 
263. 

Consistency,  foolish,  ii.  57,  58,  61. 
See,  also,  Conformity. 

Consolation,  doctrine  of,  x.  86 ;  xii. 
271. 

Constantinople,  natural  capital  of  the 
globe,  x.  330. 

Constellations,  of  facts,  ii.  14 ;  of 
men,  iv.  194 ;  of  cities,  vii.  35. 

Constituencies,  hearken  to  the  man 
who  stands  for  a  fact,  iii.  91 ;  xi. 
208. 

Constitution.  See  U.  S.,  Constitu 
tion. 

Consuelo,  Sand,  iv.  265 ;  vi.  164 ;  vii. 
204. 

Consuetudes,  ii.  202. 

Contagion,  of  energy,  iv.  18,  29  ;  xii. 
22. 

Contemplation,  iv.  254 ;  x.  226 ;  Eng 
lish  nobility  not  addicted  to,  v.  169. 

Contention,  ii.  225 ;  viii.  96. 

Contentment,  ii.  153;  iii.  63;  viii. 
231. 

Contradictions,  of  life,  iii.  233. 

Contradictory,  vii.  231,  251. 

Contrite  wood-life,  ii.  59. 


Contritions,  ii.  29G  ;  viii.  96. 

Controversy,  degrades,  ii.  225 ;  xi. 
387. 

Conventionalism,  i.  366  ;  iii.  99,  136 ; 
vi.  247  ;  vii.  13  ;  viii.  235 ;  reaction 
against,  iv.  275. 

Conversation,  vi.  256-258;  vii.  213- 
229  ;  viii.  88-98,  276-278  ;  ability  in, 
vi.  78,  257  ;  affinity  in,  ii.  198  ;  vii. 
19;  American  and  English,  v.  112; 
best  of  arts,  xi.  340;  best  between 
two,  ii.  197  ;  vii.  228,  236 ;  benefits, 
iii.  31 ;  vi.  143 ;  vii.  215 ;  of  black 
smiths,  iv.  161;  Carlyle's,  x.  455; 
celestial,  xii.  99;  chalk  eggs,  viii. 
95 ;  a  game  of  circles,  ii.  289  ;  con 
viction,  viii.  295 ;  in  the  country, 
vi.  143  ;  egotism  spoils,  vii.  273 ; 
equality,  iii.  266 ;  evanescent  rela 
tion,  ii.  198  ;  exaggeration,  iii.  135 ; 
x.  159 ;  fatigue  of  conventional,  xi. 
205 ;  flower  of  civilization,  340  ; 
game  of,  viii.  276;  xii.  8;  best  of 
all  goods,  vi.  257 ;  happiness,  iii. 
137  ;  adapted  to  shape  of  heads,  57 ; 
needs  heat,  vii.  17 ;  Hobbes  on,  vi. 
143;  houses  of,  viii.  278;  incen 
tives,  ii.  184  ;  inspiration,  viii.  254, 
276,  290 ;  universal  joy,  iv.  250  ;  law 
of,  ii.  197 ;  x.  140 ;  best  of  life,  vi. 
184,  255 ;  a  magnetic  experiment, 
vii.  19;  third  party  in,  ii.  260;  a 
Pentecost,  289 ;  personal,  163  ;  iii. 
99 ;  vi.  131 ;  vii.  218 ;  viii.  90,  302 ; 
needs  practice,  vi.  256;  price,  iii. 
182 ;  reading  inferred  from,  viii. 
288 ;  Dr.  Ripley's,  x.  367  ;  rules, 
viii.  94-97  ;  do  not  daub  with  sables 
and  glooms,  vii.  291  ;  the  true 
school  of  philosophy,  viii.  276 ;  ser 
vile,  ii.  273 ;  spoilt,  185,  195 ;  spon 
taneity,  iii.  70  ;  success,  36  ;  supper 
as  basis,  vii.  233  ;  surfaces,  vi.  257  ; 
Swedenborg,  iv.  124  ;  topics,  vi.  132, 
188,  257 ;  vii.  213  ;  viii.  89,  94 ;  xi. 
183 ;  travel,  vi.  255  ;  tricks,  iii.  228 ; 
vii.  120 ;  tropes,  viii.  17 ;  showa 
unity,  iii.  266;  universe,  vi.  258; 
war  spoils,  xi.  184 ;  wit,  viii.  187 ; 
woman's,  vii.  214 ;  viii.  91 ;  xi.  340. 
See  Discourse. 

Conversion  by  miracles,  i.  131 ;  of  evil 
spirits,  iv.  133  ;  Norse  mode  of,  vi. 
197,  201. 

Convertibility,  vi.  288;  viii.  27;  x. 
177. 

Conviction,  vii.  91 ;  viii.  292 ;  x.  226 ; 
xii.  23. 

Coolness,  iii.  134 ;  viii.  85 ;  x.  40.  See, 
also,  Courage,  Presence  of  Mind, 
Self -Control. 


290 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


Cooperation,  vii.  14 ;  x.  337. 

Copernican  theory,  x.  317. 

Copyright,  iii.  G7 ;  Plato's,  iv.  76; 
Persian,  viii.  239. 

Corn,  shall  serve  man,  xi.  417 ;  hon 
est,  xii.  104. 

Corn-laws,  vi.  202;  xi.  293. 

Corporal  punishment,  x.  150,  151. 

Corpse,  adds  beauty,  i.  22 ;  ii.  125  ;  of 
memory,  58. 

Correlations,  vi.  47,  48;  viii.  201, 
211. 

Correspondences,  iv.  62, 102, 112,  116 ; 
vii.  283 ;  viii.  15,  51,  257  ;  xii.  73. 

Costume,  of  circumstances,  i.  158  ;  x. 
15  ;  novels  of,  iv.  264 ;  xii.  233. 

Cotton,  not  to  rule,  i.  184;  x.  202, 
334;  what  is? ,396. 

Counsel,  from  the  breast,  vii.  275; 
viii.  293  ;  x.  (33.  See,  also,  Advice. 

Countenance,  viii.  83.    See,  also,  Face. 

Country  life,  i.  24,  36,  349 ;  v.  171, 
173 ;  vi.  142 ;  vii.  281 ;  viii.  146. 

Country  people,  ii.  75;  iii.  126,  129, 
167 ;  vi.  107,  117,  147,  212 ;  vii.  133, 
136 ;  ix.  62,  63 ;  x.  165. 

COURAGE,  vii.  237-263;  beams  of  Al 
mighty,  33,  258 ;  depends  on  circu 
lation,  vi.  57  ;  of  duty,  221 ;  new 
face  on  things,  viii.  141 ;  fate  teaches, 
vi.  29 ;  x.  94 ;  of  girls,  iii.  122 ;  re 
sult  of  knowledge,  iv.  63 ;  vi.  135 ; 
vii.  247;  viii.  324;  universal  need 
of,  113,  288 ;  x.  41 ;  of  principle,  xi. 
282  ;  to  ask  questions,  viii.  94  ; 
scholar's,  x.  260,  294;  silent,  vii. 
255;  teaches,  i.  133;  Thor,  symbol 
of,  ii.  72 ;  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  iv.  226. 

Courtesy,  iii.  120,  132,  134 ;  viii.  85 ; 
xi.  217.  See  Behavior,  Manners, 
Politeness. 

Courts  of  justice,  vii.  85,  86 ;  wait  for 
precedents,  275. 

Courtship,  English,  v.  107. 

Cousins,  i.  324 ;  iv.  45 ;  things  our, 
vii.  93. 

Coventry,  going  to,  iii.  128 ;  vi.  155 ; 
cathedral,  v.  270. 

Cowardice,  i.  95;  ii.  49,  74,  276;  iii. 
259 ;  v.  101 ;  vi.  33 ;  vii.  243,  244, 
255 ;  ix.  202 ;  xi.  109, 197,  200.  See, 
also,  Courage,  Fear. 

Cowry,  v.  109 ;  vi.  23. 

Cows,  make  paths,  vi.  119;  signal, 
171 ;  hold  up  milk,  vii.  221 ;  no  in 
terest  in  landscape,  viii.  30. 

Crab,  backward-creeping,  xi.  418. 

Crack  in  everything,  ii.  104. 

Creation,  the,  i.  10 ;  law  of,  ii.  340 ; 
iii.  173 ;  viii.  10. 


Creative,  manners,  i.  92,  94,  317 ;  aims, 
ii.  328 ;  vii.  203  ;  xi.  342. 

Creator,  the,  in  man,  i.  68,  92,  271; 
iii.  32 ;  keeps  his  word,  viii.  319. 
See,  also,  God,  Lord. 

Credit,  i.  293 ;  viii.  84.  See,  also,  Be 
lief,  Faith,  Trust. 

Creeds,  change,  x.  194,  227  ;  classifi 
cations  of  some  one's  mind,  ii.  78 ; 
decay,  x.  113,  235 ;  depend  on  tem 
perament,  iii.  55  ;  not  final,  ii.  79 ; 
multiplicity,  xi.  389 ;  outgrown,  382  ; 
reverence,  x.  194 ;  shrivel,  viii.  201 ; 
out  of  unbeliefs,  iii.  76.  See,  also, 
Belief,  Church,  Religion. 

Crillon,  Count  de,  quoted,  viii.  181. 

Crime,  no  shock  to  Americans,  xi. 
216;  not  so  black  in  us  as  in  the 
felon,  iii.  79 ;  depend  on  price  of 
bread,  vi.  103 ;  not  to  be  concealed, 
ii.  112 ;  must  disappear,  x.  223 ; 
English,  v.  64 ;  defeats  end  of  exist 
ence,  xi.  223 ;  of  intellect,  experi 
ments,  iii.  80 ;  viii.  297 ;  factitious, 
v.  96 ;  of  fraud  in  place  of  those  of 
force,  310  ;  ink  of,  viii.  297 ;  earth 
is  glass  to,  ii.  112 ;  love  remedy  for, 
vi.  208  ;  nature  rids  itself  of,  x.  184 ; 
does  not  pay,  xi.  288,  422 ;  earth  a 
picture  of,  x.  186 ;  punishment,  the 
fruit  of,  ii.  100,  117 ;  cause  of,  iii. 
224 ;  not  excused,  xi.  223  ;  snow  re 
veals,  ii.  112  ;  more  lightly  thought 
of  than  spoken  of,  iii.  79 ;  proof  of 
superiority,  v.  64 ;  temple  built  of, 
ii.  296;  ugliness,  xi.  175;  may  be 
virtue,  i.  318 ;  blunder  worse  than, 
iii.  80. 

Criminals,  on  even  terms  with  each 
other,  ii.  201. 

Cripples,  the  spirit  does  not  love,  vi. 
227 ;  x.  188. 

Crises,  the  angel  shown  in,  i.  46 ;  ii. 
10,  247. 

Criticism,  law  of,  i.  40 ;  iii.  230 ;  age 
of,  i.  109,  iii.  61,  243,  x.  159,  310 ; 
insufficiency  its  own,  iii.  269;  pov 
erty  of,  vii.  279  ;  ix.  31. 

Critic,  the  over-soul,  ii.  252 ;  vii.  289 ; 
a  failed  poet,  viii.  58. 

Crockery  gods,  xi.  228. 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  vi.  241 ;  vii.  33  ;  ix. 
171 ;  quoted,  ii.  300 ;  xi.  221. 

Crump  and  his  native  devils,  ii.  127. 

Crusades,  x.  234. 

Cuba,  i.  221 ;  xi.  217. 

Cud  worth,  Ralph,  vi.  193. 

CULTURE,  vi.  125-159. 

POEM,  ix.  232. 

PROGRESS  OF,  viii.  195-222. 

is  the  suggestion  of  wider  affln- 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


291 


ities,  vi.  132;  aims,  ii.  211;  birth 
its  basis,  iv.  G5 ;  calamity  and 
odium  means  of,  vi.  155 ;  calomel 
of,  x.  151 ;  ours  cheap,  xi.  152 ; 
drawbacks  to,  iv.  152 ;  must  begin 
early,  vi.  157  ;  kills  egotism,  133 ; 
effects,  i.  54,  55  ;  iv.  47  ;  identifica 
tion  of  the  Ego  with  the  universe, 
xii.  57  ;  the  end  to  which  a  house  is 
built,  vii.  114;  English,  v.  189; 
enormity  of,  viii.  205;  without 
grandeur,  i.  152  ;  ends  in  headache, 
iii.  61 ;  ours  European,  xii.  258 ;  in 
dependence,  viii.  207  ;  instinct,  xii. 
34;  life  is  for,  iv.  272;  xi.  222; 
manual  labor  as,  i.  225 ;  measure  of, 
x.  58 ;  its  measure  the  number  of 
things  taken  for  granted,  58;  vii. 
1C  ;  moral  sentiment  its  foundation, 
viii.  21G;  its  office  to  correct  nar 
rowness,  vi.  127 ;  Plato's  word,  iv. 
64;  politics,  viii.  206;  power,  207; 
proof,  vi.  279;  religion  its  flower, 
196 ;  results,  i.  107 ;  scale  of,  vi. 
290  ;  scientific,  209 ;  scope,  viii.  206  ; 
its  secret  to  interest  men  more  in 
their  public  than  in  their  private 
character,  vi.  150,  151,  263;  effect 
of  society,  i.  295;  vii.  16;  x.  36; 
can  spare  nothing,  vi.  158 ;  super 
ficial,  183;  travel,  139,  253;  truc 
kling,  x.  133  ;  inverts  vulgar  views, 
i.  63 ;  war  forwards,  xi.  180. 

Cup,  of  life,  x.  46 :  of  the  earth,  vii. 
165,  300-1 ;  of  thought,  iii.  174. 

Cupid,  ii.  340;  vi.  274-75;  ix.  19, 
92 /,  219. 

CUPIDO,  ix.  221. 

Curfew  stock,  vi.  151. 

Curiosity,  lies  in  wait,  viii.  215  ;  Eng 
lish  absence  of,  v.  104. 

Curls,  witchcraft  of,  vii.  103,  285. 

Currents,  of  mind,  ii.  306;  viii.  12; 
x.  189. 

Custom,  ruts  of,  i.  232,  238  ;  nullified, 
296;  ii.  76,  133;  iii.  164;  iv.  164; 
English  deference-to,  T.  109  ;  works 
for  us,  vi.  117  /;  opium  of,  x.  128. 
See,  also,  Conformity,  Fashion. 

Customers,  viii.  138 ;  xi.  153. 

Cynics,  iv.  148;  vii.  303. 

Cypresses,  iv.  138 ;  v.  265. 

Dsedalus,  ix.  9,  149,  208. 

DAEMONIC  LOVE,  ix.  97-101. 

Daemons,  iii.  29,  42  ;  iv.  G3,  106 ;  vi. 

48  ;  ix.  26,  98  ;  x.  98. 
Daguesseau,  xii.  68. 
Dalton,  John,  vii.  225. 
Dance,  in  men's  lives,  viii.  70 ;  x.  42. 
Dancing,  vi.  138,  277. 


Dandamis,  quoted,  iii.  265. 

Dandelion,  duped  by  a,  vi.  113. 

Danger,  vi.  29,  51. 

Daniel,  Samuel,  quoted,  vii.  33. 

Dante,  we  are  civil  to,  viii.  68 ;  bad 
company,  vii.  13 ;  like  Euclid,  viii. 
73  ;  writes  proudly,  xii.  195  ;  imagi 
nation  and  insight,  iii.  10  ;  iv.  206  ; 
v.  222 ;  viii.  31,  73  ;  xii.  45,  225 ;  can 
be  parsed,  viii.  26  ;  realism,  iii.  40  ; 
vindictive,  iv.  131 ;  contempt  of  the 
vulgar,  xii.  135. 

Dark  Ages,  viii.  204. 

Dartmouth  College,  Address  at,  i. 
149-180. 

Daughter,  birth  of,  in  China,  xi.  346. 

David,  King,  ii.  240. 

DAY,  ix.  196;  apprehension  of,  the 
measure  of  a  man,  vii.  171 ;  bask  in, 
280;  be  a,  172;  beams  from  eter 
nity,  x.  226  ;  best,  xii.  74 ;  fill  with 
bravery,  iii.  40 ;  carnival  of  year, 
vii.  163;  as  centuries,  vi.  235;  of 
Charles  V.,  i.  158 ;  creeping,  x.  131 ; 
cups  of  pearl,  ix.  264 ;  darkened,  x. 
53;  day  of,  vi.  29;  deformed  and 
low,  ix.  152 ;  divine,  vii.  161 ;  every 
day  is  doomsday,  168 ;  dress,  163 ; 
fabric  of,  vi.  81 ;  two  faces,  ix.  197 ; 
of  facts,  x.  132  ;  farmer's,  76  ;  name 
of  God,  vii.  160 ;  give  me  a,  i.  23 ; 
great,  ii.  205 ;  vi.  29,  289 ;  vii.  163, 
289 ;  viii.  20,  226,  330  ;  halcyon,  iii. 
163;  happy,  xii.  74;  haughty,  ix. 
173 ;  all  holy,  ii.  17 ;  hypocritic,  iii. 
50 ;  vii.  161 ;  ix.  196  ;  x.  131 ;  inter 
calated,  iii.  50 ;  x.  227  ;  long  time 
to  find  out,  viii.  28 ;  lord  of,  i.  159 ; 
of  lot,  viii.  226 ;  lucky,  x.  21 ;  mel 
ancholy,  iii.  188 ;  memorable,  vi. 
289  ;  vii.  162,  163  ;  viii.  330  ;  x.  102  ; 
fitted  to  mind,  vii.  161 ;  won  from 
moon,  iii.  50 ;  muffled,  vii.  161 ; 
new  with  new  works,  i.  358  ;  qual 
ity,  not  number,  important,  330; 
October,  iii.  163;  opal-colored,  ix. 
157 ;  in  panorama  of  year,  121 ; 
good,  in  which  most  perceptions, 
viii.  280  ;  he  only  rich  who  owns  the 
day,  i.  105 :  vii.  161  ;  adorn  with 
sacrifices,  viii.  104  ;  sleeps  on  hills, 
iii.  163;  solid  good,  64;  sped,  iv. 
26;  cut  into  strips,  98;  viii.  273; 
elastic  tent,  ix.  280  ;  sold  for 
thoughts,  x.  247;  treat  respectful 
ly,  vii.  172 ;  the  two  in"  man's  his 
tory,  x.  172 ;  unalterable,  ix.  227 ; 
undermining,  ii.  123 ;  unprofitable, 
iii.  50  ;  value,  vi.  235  ;  vii.  163,  168, 
216  ;  viii.  268,  320  ;  warp  and  woof, 
vii.  163 ;  of  youth,  216,  280 ;  the 


292 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


wise  man  is  he  who  can  unfold  the 
theory  of  this  particular  Wednes 
day,  171.  See,  also,  Time,  To-day, 
Years. 

DAY'S  RATION,  ix.  121,  122. 

Death,  viii.  308-313 ;  badness,  i.  124 ; 
a  concealment,  iii.  231 ;  envied,  ii. 
248 ;  desire  for,  x.  400  ;  xii.  139 ; 
fear  of,  vi.  227  ;  vii.  306  ;  viii.  312  ; 
of  friends,  ii.  121 ;  adds  owner  to 
land,  ix.  36 ;  love  makes  impossible, 
ii.  248 ;  not  sought  as  relief  from 
duty,  vi.  228 ;  reality,  iii.  53 ;  a  se 
curity,  ii.  248  ;  of  a  son,  iii.  52  ; 
ways  of,  viii.  327. 

Debate,  extempore,  i.  161 ;  viii.  100. 

Debt,  collecting,  viii.  84 ;  memory  of, 
xii.  76 ;  other  than  money,  ii.  295 ; 
vii.  112;  paying,  ii.  109,  294;  iii. 
153  ;  v.  151 ;  vi.  296,  305 ;  ix.  238  ;  a 
preceptor,  i.  43 ;  slavery,  vi.  90 ; 
voracity,  114. 

Decision,  must  be  made,  vi.  76. 

Decorum,  English,  v.  110 ;  x.  460 ; 
unprincipled,  vi.  235.  See,  also, 
Etiquette. 

Deeds,  iii.  14,  89.    See  Actions. 

Defeat,  gainful,  viii.  94. 

Defects,  useful,  ii.  112;  iii.  23;  v. 
144 ;  vi.  38. 

Deference,  iii.  129,  133 ;  xii.  28. 

Definitions,  defining,  is  philosophy, 
iv.  49  ;  he  that  can  define  is  the  best 
man,  vii.  222 ;  x.  160 ;  xii.  210. 

Defoe,  Daniel,  v.  223;  quoted,  54, 
123. 

Deformity,  from  infraction  of  spiritual 
laws,  ii.  125,  234;  from  fixity,  vi. 
277. 

Degeneracy,  viii.  179 ;  x.  235. 

Degrees,  man,  a  being  of,  vi.  121 ;  x. 
101. 

Deity,  personality  of,  ii.  58 ;  makes 
many,  one,  186;  iv.  54;  viii.  292; 
anthropomorphism,  xii.  121.  See, 
also,  Divinity,  God,  Lord. 

Deliverly,  vii.  216. 

Delphi,  oracle  of,  not  uncommanded, 
vii.  251 ;  xii.  46. 

Democracy,  iii.  193  ;  better  relatively 
to  us,  not  absolutely,  198,  201,  228; 
iv.  213,  243 ;  vi.  65 ;  x.  38 ;  xi.  217, 
408. 

Democrat,  ripens  into  a  conservative, 
iii.  234. 

Demon.     See  Daemon. 

DEMONOLOGY,  x.  7-32. 

Demophoon,  x.  161. 

Demosthenes,  vii.  70,  74,  97. 

Denderah,  zodiac,  i.  137. 

Depth  of  living,  ii.  243 ;  vii.  175. 


DERVISHES,  SONG  OF,  ix.  249,  250. 

ix.  117,  196,  265. 

Desatir,  quoted,  iii.  62  ;  xii.  254. 
Desire,  insatiable,  iv.  175;  flame  of, 

viii.  102  ;  predicts  satisfaction,  320  ; 

xi.  190.    See,  also,  Hopes,  Wishes. 
Despair,  system  of,  i.  301 ;  iii.  254  ;  x. 

135  ;  vi.  199  ;  no  muse,  252. 
Despondency,  comes  readily,  vii.  292  ; 

xii.  261  ;  unworthy,  x.  236. 
DESTINY,  ix.  32 /. 
beneficent,  i.  351  /;  deaf,  iv.  168, 

175  ;   vi.   11 ;    teaches  courage,  28  ; 

viii.   226  ;   an  immense  whim,   xii. 

263 /.     See,  also,  Fate. 
Detaching,  power  of,  ii.  330  ;  xi.  222 ; 

xii.  35. 
Details,  melancholy,  ii.  163;  iii.  220, 

226 ;  x.  65. 
Determination,  needful,  vi.  130.     See, 

also,  Purpose,  Will. 
Development,  viii.  13,   256;    x.  180; 

xi.  408;  xii.  20.     See,  also,  Evolu 
tion. 
Devil's,   attorney,   iv.   165 ;    vi.   193 ; 

Burns  on,  iv.  133  ;  x.  282  ;  child,  ii. 

52 ;  confessions,  vi.  172 ;   dear  old, 

iii.  64 ;  Goethe  on,  iv.  263 ;  nestles 

into  all  things,  xi.  221  ;  party,  403 ; 

respect  for,  viii.  296 ;  respect  virtue, 

ii.  150  ;  Shakers  send  to  market,  vi. 

67 ;  not  to  have  best  tunes,  xi.  368. 

See,  also,  Satan. 
Dew,    varnish    of,    i.   155;    vi.    163; 

world  globe  itself  in,  ii.  991. 
Dexterity,  value,  xi.  211. 
DIAL,  THE,  x.  324 ;  PAPERS  FROM,  xii. 

175-272. 

Dial  in  shade,  ii.  198. 
Dialectics,  iii.  61 ;  iv.  62,  77 ;  Scotch, 

v.  55. 

Diamagnetism,  viii.  289. 
Diamonds,   growth  of  ages,  ii.   199 ; 

best  plain-set,  vii.  112  ;  road  mended 

with,  viii.  103. 

Diaries,  iii.  180 ;  viii.  266,  292. 
Dibdin's  Bibliomania  quoted,  vii.  200. 
Dice,  Nature's  loaded,  i.  44;   ii.  99; 

vi.  211. 
Dickens,  Charles,  x.  56 ;  in  America, 

vi.  167  ;  x.  235  ;  works,  v.  234. 
Dictionary,  life  a,  i.  98 ;  a  good  book, 

iii.  22  ;  vii.  201. 

Diderot,  viii.  298  ;  quoted,  vii.  221. 
Dido,  Chaucer's  picture,  vi.  198. 
Diet,  iii.  240;  vi.  148;   vii.  114;   xii. 

240. 

Differences,  perception  of,  i.  44. 
Difficulties,  ii.  126;  viii.  219. 
Digby,   Sir  Kenelm,   v.   79;    quoted, 

80 ;  xii.  37. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


293 


Dime,  value,  i.  362. 

Dinners,  in  England,  y.  Ill ;  art  of, 

vi.  78  ;  emphasis  on,  vii.  115  ;  public, 

233 ;  x.  166. 
DIRGE,  ix.  127-129 ;  of  mountain  blasts, 

x.  371. 
Dirt,   chemistry  knows    no,   xii.   51 ; 

children  love,  x.  345. 
Disasters,  benefactors,  ii.  112  ;  opium 

in,  iii.  51 ;  exaggerated,  x.  160.    See, 

also,   Accidents,   Calamity,   Misfor- 

Discipline,  i.  42;  value,  vi.  134;  x. 
142. 

Discontent,  infirmity  of  will,  ii.  77  ; 
iii.  239  ;  vi.  251 ;  xii.  185,  200,  252 /. 

Discouragement,  easy,  vii.  291 /. 

Discourse,  ii.  290 /.  See  Conversa 
tion. 

Discoveries,  iii.  176  ;  iv.  17 ;  vi.  47 ; 
vii.  276 ;  viii.  28. 

Discrepancy,  seers  of,  v.  226;  viii. 
154. 

Disease,  has  its  inlet  in  human  crime 
and  its  outlet  in  human  suffering, 
ii.  234  ;  no  respecter  of  persons,  vi. 
12  /,  23,  36  ;  vii.  305.  See  Sick 
ness. 

Disinterestedness,  vii.  239. 

Dislocation,  in  our  relation  to  nature, 
ii.  217  ;  viii.  179  ;  in  dreams,  x.  11. 

Display,  lust  of,  i.  170 ;  vi.  146. 

Dispositions,  a  world  for  trying  each 
other's  dispositions,  x.  381. 

Disputes,  ii.  225 ;  vii.  214 ;  xi.  387  ; 
xii.  22. 

D'Israeli,  Benjamin,  novels,  iv.  265  ; 
xii.  235 /. 

Dissatisfaction  of  youth,  iv.  175. 

Dissent,  iii.  239,  243  ;  fury  of,  x.  344. 

Dissimulation,  ii.  148. 

Dissipation,  iii.  32 ;  vi.  74,  244 ;  x.  66. 

Distrust,  i.  240,  268 ;  of  sentiment,  ii. 
50 ;  vi.  201. 

Diver,  genius  a,  i.  157. 

Divination,  iv.  93;  x.  26;  women's 
power  of,  xi.  345. 

Divine,  animal,  iii.  31;  building,  vii. 
122 ;  circuits,  iii.  269 ;  is  the  truly 
human,  xi.  333  ;  mind,  x.  192  ; 
moments,  ii.  295  ;  nature,  i.  126 ; 
persons,  iii.  106,  111  ;  vii.  121 ;  pres 
ence,  iii.  257  ;  sentiment,  172 ;  sig 
nificance  of  things,  viii.  14;  spirit, 
ii.  66. 

Divinity,  approaches,  vi.  289;  in  at 
oms,  221 ;  of  beauty,  ii.  173 ;  behind 
failures,  iii.  60  ;  faith  in,  i.  126  ;  im 
mortal,  28  ;  intimate,  210  ;  of  Jesus, 
see  Jesus  Christ ;  in  man,  vi.  221 ; 
viii.  292;  x.  99;  xi.  383;  Plato's 


faith,  iv.  69;   ray  of,  ii.  91.    See, 

also,  Deity,  God. 

DIVINITY    SCHOOL,    CAMBRIDGE,    AD 
DRESS  AT,  i.  117. 
Division  of  labor.     See  Labor. 
Divorce,  iv.  123  ;  xii.  167. 
Divulgatory,  xi.  389. 
Do,  what  you  know,  i.  211 ;  what  you 

can  best,  ii.  55,  81  ;  vi.  91  ;  vii.  274 ; 

x.  261 ;  what  you  are  afraid  to  do, 

380. 

Doctors.    See  Physicians. 
Doddington,  Bubb,  quoted,  x.  50. 
Dogmas,  i.  137 ;  vii.  214,  283 ;  x.  109, 

193. 
;matism,   i.   179;    ii.   94,  292;    x. 


Doing,  and  being,  vi.  206;  and  hav 
ing,  ii.  136 ;  and  knowing,  i.  211 ; 
vii.  303;  viii.  325;  and  saying,  iii. 
13;  is  success,  i.  174;  ii.  149; 
teaching  by,  144. 

Dollar,  i.  237 ;  ii.  54,  129 ;  heavy  and 
light,  vi.  100  ff;  x.  259. 

Dolls,  vi.  156 ;  x.  190. 

DOMESTIC  LIFE,  vii.  99-129. 

English,  v.  107  ;  vi.  77. 

Domestics,  i.  240;  vi.  260;  vii.  113. 
See,  also,  Servants. 

Donne,  John,  viii.  55  ;  quoted,  ii.  175. 

Doors  of  truth  in  every  intelligence, 
i.  219 ;  ii.  305 ;  iii.  30,  58. 

Doria,  Andrew,  viii.  291. 

Doric  temples,  ii.  24. 

Doses,  people  to  be  taken  in,  vii.  18. 

Double  consciousness,  i.  333 ;  vi.  49. 

Doubts,  ii.  126 ;  iv.  165,  171,  172. 

Drainage,  in  Concord,  vii.  144 /. 

Drawing,  ii.  313 /,  314. 

Dreams,  x.  9-32 ;  absurdities,  vi.  44 ; 
make  us  artists,  ii.  314 ;  attractive, 
300 ;  bad,  iv.  135  ;  dislocation  their 
foremost  trait,  x.  11  ;  sequel  of 
day's  experiences,  ii.  140  ;  viii.  215 ; 
a  fact  worth  a  limbo  of,  x.  162 ; 
Germany  of,  i.  23;  Heraclitus  on, 
x.  25 ;  have  a  poetic  integrity,  13 ; 
melting  matter  into,  247 ;  the  ma 
turation  of  unconscious  opinions, 
14 ;  jealous  of  memory,  10 ;  poetic, 
viii.  47  ;  and  surface,  iii.  47  ;  a  rush 
of  thoughts,  xii.  80;  wisdom  in,  i. 
70 ;  world  a,  66,  286 ;  of  youth,  iii. 
193 ;  vi.  251 ;  viii.  177. 

Dress,  adaptation,  viii.  164 ;  American 
good  sense  in,  86;  best  when  not 
noticed,  v.  85  ;  and  manners,  80,  87  ; 
relation  to  person,  viii.  164 ;  re 
straint,  vi.  145  ;  gives  tranquillity, 
viii.  88.  See,  also,  Clothes,  Fash 
ion. 


294 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


Drift,  we  can  drift  when  we  cannot 
steer,  x.  189 

Drill,  virtue  of,  vi.  77,  79  ;  x.  142. 

Drinks  of  literary  men,  viii.  145. 

Drop  cannot  exhibit  storm,  iv.  100. 

Drowning,  experience  of,  xii.  80. 

Drowsy  strength,  iii.  136. 

Drowsiness  of  usage,  iii.  245 ;  iv.  164. 

Drudgery,  i.  96. 

Druids,  v.  192,  2G3,  267. 

Drunkards'  hands,  iii.  63. 

Drunkenness,  counterfeit  of  genius, 
ii.  300. 

Dryden,  John,  viii.  73. 

Dualism  of  nature  and  man,  i.  55 ;  ii. 
94. 

Dumont,  Pierre,  quoted,  viii.  268. 

Duration,  ii.  2G6,  296;  vi.  228;  vii. 
170,  175  ;  viii.  331. 

Dust,  grandeur  nigh  to,  ix.  180. 

Dust-hole  of  thought,  x.  13. 

Duties,  that  belong  to  us,  ii.  55 ;  vi. 
222  ;  x.  59  ;  not  detachable,  ii.  295  ; 
heeded,  155;  heroism  in,  247;  liv 
ing  without  duties  is  obscene,  x.  54 ; 
lowly,  ii.  247 ;  x.  199 ;  pack  of,  ix. 
161  ;  relative,  ii.  73 /. 

Duty,  clarion  call,  ix.  181 ;  difficult, 
never  far  off,  vii.  259 ;  direct  and 
reflex,  ii.  73 ;  x.  179,  191  ;  fate  and, 
xi.  218  ;  grows  everywhere,  111 ;  a 
guide,  vi.  222  ;  intellectual  and 
moral,  ii.  318  ;  law,  xi.  383 ;  light 
ning-rod,  vi.  221 ;  the  old,  xii.  258 ; 
know  your  own,  ii.  55 ;  our  place, 
79;  sense  of,  i.  121,  125;  whispers 
low,  ix.  180;  wishes  and,  x.  96; 
true  worship,  xi.  384. 

Dyspepsia,  iii.  64 ;  ix.  165. 

EACH  AND  ALL,  ix.  14 /. 

Each  for  all,  vii.  138. 

Eagle,  spread,  xi.  412. 

Ear,  a  sieve,  xii.  29. 

Earth,  a  balloon,  i.  314;  cup  of  na 
ture,  vii.  165 ;  eyeless  bark,  ix. 
282 ;  factory  of  power,  viii.  135 ; 
works  for  man,  vii.  146 ;  fills  her 
lap,  ii.  140;  laughs  in  flowers,  ix. 
35;  glass  to  crime,  ii.  112  ;  goes  on 
earth,  viii.  310 ;  and  heaven  corre 
spond,  vi.  196 ;  viii.  51,  311 ;  host 
who  murders  guests,  233;  howling 
wilderness,  ix.  41 ;  insignificance  in 
nature,  x.  317  ;  lonely,  ii.  89 ;  a  ma 
chine,  vii.  139  ;  viii.  135  ;  and  man, 
i.  18;  vii.  139;  xi.  423;  burnt 
metals,  x.  72;  productivenesses;  a 
reading-room,  xii.  190 ;  quaked  in 
rhyme,  vi.  265 ;  makes  itself,  41 ; 
shape,  i.  351 ;  conspires  with  virtue, 


vii.  54;  white-hot,  i.  313.  See, 
also,  Planet,  World. 

Earthquakes,  vi.  13;  learn  geology 
from,  249. 

EARTH-SONG,  ix.  36 /. 

Earth-spirit,  x.  311. 

Ease,  to  be  dreaded,  vi.  155. 

East,  genius  of  the,  x.  171,  173. 

Ebb  of  the  soul,  ii.  35. 

Eccentricity,  success  has  no,  vi.  81. 

Echo,  do  not  be  an,  ii.  199  ;  the  world 
our,  viii.  302  ;  x.  185  ;  xii.  27. 

Eclecticism,  i.  165//  x.  291  ;  nature's, 
ii.  328. 

Eclipse  of  genius,  viii.  267. 

Economy,  i.  234 ;  ii.  221  ;  v.  109 ;  vi. 
90,  109 ;  vii.  106 ;  x.  128 ;  nature's, 
352 ;  look  for  seed  of  the  kind  you 
BOW,  vi.  120  ;  symbolical,  122. 

Ecstasy,  i.  192,  195,  201,  203,  217,  317  ; 
ii.  264,  306;  iv.  61,  94,  97,  114;  vi. 
44,  204,  295 ;  viii.  262 ;  x.  172. 

Edelweiss,  x.  451. 

Edgeworth,  Maria,  novels,  xii.  234. 

EDUCATION,  x.  123-156 ;  agitation  on, 
in  America,  i.  345;  vii.  116;  xi. 
409 ;  of  amusements,  vi.  137  ;  best, 
ii.  127  ;  bias  in,  viii.  290  ;  Carlyle  on, 
x.  461  ;  classics  in,  iii.  245 ;  college, 
vi.  139 ;  defects,  iii.  244 ;  viii.  125 ; 
x.  134;  defined,  viii.  26;  a  system 
of  despair,  iii.  255  ;  x.  135  ;  two  ele 
ments,  enthusiasm  and  drill,  144; 
fruitless,  vi.  136  ;  gymnastic  in,  iv. 
64 ;  vi.  137  ;  and  happiness,  iii.  255  ; 
labor,  i.  224,  229  ;  in  dead  lan 
guages,  iii.  245;  love,  a  liberal, 
viii.  92  ;  in  Massachusetts,  xii.  96 ; 
masters  in,  xi.  222  ;  object,  i.  302  ; 
x.  134 ;  xi.  389  ;  xii.  153 ;  power, 
iii.  254 ;  preventive,  vi.  135 ;  re 
form,  iii.  244 ;  fosters  restlessness, 
ii.  81 ;  Roman  rule,  iii.  245 ;  its  se 
cret  lies  in  respecting  the  pupil,  x. 
141;  self-denial  for,  vi.  149;  of 
senses,  204 ;  of  sexes,  xi.  355 ;  skep 
ticism  of,  iii.  256  ;  spiral  tendency, 
vi.  267  ;  stereotyped,  iii.  246  ;  sym 
pathetic,  ii.  127  ;  vi.  143  ;  to  things, 
iii.  244  ;  of  women,  see  Women  ;  'in 
words,  244;  world  for,  viii.  317; 
effect  on  young  men,  xii.  254.  See, 
also,  Colleges,  Schools. 

Education-Farm,  iii.  Gl. 

Effect,  thing  done  for,  vi.  181.  See 
Cause  and  Effect. 

Ego,  x.  25  ;  xii.  57. 

Egotism,  aid,  vi.  244 ;  antidotes,  134  ; 
buckram,  vii.  273 ;  chorea,  vi.  128 ; 
dropsy,  129;  exaggerated,  v.  160; 
all  things  fuel  to,  vii.  121 ;  genius 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


295 


consumes,  x.  402;  goitre,  vi.  129; 
influenza,  128  ;  nature  utilizes,  128  ; 
vii.  273 ;  of  prophets,  xii.  8 ;  root, 
vi.  130  ;  in  society,  ii.  198  ;  scourge 
of  talent,  vi.  129 ;  test  of,  xii.  182 ; 
viii.  325 ;  universal,  iii.  180 ;  weak 
ness,  i.  3G9 ;  vanishes  in  presence 
of  nature,  16. 

Egypt  and  Egyptians  :  architecture, 
ii.  24;  art,  vi.  274;  x.  233;  debt  of 
churches  to,  viii.  174 ;  Herodotus 
on,  308  ;  hieroglyphics,  ii.  329  ;  im 
mortality,  viii.  308  ;  marble  deserts, 
iii.  1G9;  mysteries,  i.  230;  mythol 
ogy,  128  ;  Napoleon  in,  iv.  234,  237  ; 
x.  242;  obelisk,  vii.  57;  xii.  191; 
vote  of  prophets,  vi.  237. 

Eldon,  Lord,  v.  194  ;  quoted,  iii.  234 ; 
v.  97,  108. 

Election,  doctrine  of,  vi.  12. 

Elections,  vi.  19 ;  xi.  406. 

Elective  affinities,  ii.  293. 

Electric,  light,  viii.  300  ;  telegraph, 
see  Telegraph ;  thrills,  vi.  84. 

Electricity,  of  action,  viii.  113  ;  effect 
on  air,  iii.  177;  arrested,  x.  258, 
not  to  be  made  fast,  v.  220 ;  inspira 
tion  like,  viii.  259  ;  a  luxury,  vi.  71 ; 
message-carrier,  vii.  31  ;  of  poets, 
12  ;  xii.  241 ;  power,  viii.  135  ;  riv«r, 
iii.  43;  wisdom  like,  vii.  235;  xii.  25. 

Elegance,  true,  i.  235;  iii.  143;  vii. 
111. 

Elegies,  living  on,  vi.  69. 

Eleusinian  mysteries,  facts  as,  vi.  288. 

Eliot,  John,  quoted,  ii.  240. 

ELLEN,  To,  ix.  86. 

ELOQUKNCE,  vii.  61-98;  viii.  107-129; 

demands  absoluteness,  viii.  127 ; 

aids,  vii.  49 ;  dog-cheap  at  the  anti- 
slavery  chapel,  xi.  132,  166 ;  magic 
of  personal  ascendancy,  vii.  77,  90 ; 
depends  not  on  beauty,  vi.  285  ; 
calamity  instructs  in,  i.  96  ;  its  des 
potism,  vii.  42,  67  ;  indicates  uni 
versal  health,  viii.  113;  needs  heat, 
vii.  63,  69 ;  irresistible,  i.  251 ;  vii. 
226  ;  viii.  207  ;  x.  55,  79  ;  xi.  210 ;  of 
ancient  lawgivers,  vii.  223 ;  audi 
ence  the  meter  of,  67;  Milton  on, 
xii.  158 ;  rule  of,  viii.  34  ;  secret  of, 
x.  268  ;  is  translation  of  truth  into 
language  intelligible  to  the  hearer, 
viii.  126  ;  xi.  210 ;  triumphs,  vii.  52, 
71 ;  in  war,  viii.  207  ;  Webster's,  xi. 
209. 

Emanations,  i.  191. 

Emancipate,  man  should,  x.  58  ;  poet, 
iii.  37  ;  religion,  xii.  105. 

Emancipation  makes  union  possible, 
xi.  286. 


EMANCIPATION  IN  THE  BRITISH  WEST 
INDIES,  ADDRESS  ON,  xi.  129-175, 
293. 

EMANCIPATION  PROCLAMATION,  AD 
DRESS  ON,  xi.  291-303,  277  note. 

Emblems,  i.  32,  38 ;  ii.  98  ;  iii.  21 ;  iv. 
113,  207  ;  vi.  301.  See,  also,  Sym 
bols. 

EMERSON,  EDWARD  BLISS,  IN  MEMO- 
RIAM,  ix.  224 ;  FAREWELL  BY,  222. 

Emerson,  Rev.  Joseph,  quoted,  x. 
360. 

EMERSON,  MARY  MOODY,  x.  371-404; 
quoted,  ii.  245  ;  x.  388. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  visits  to  Eng 
land,  v.  Iff,  28 ff;  garden,  ii.  209; 
ix.  197-200;  habits  of  work,  viii. 
273;  house,  iii.  166;  portraits,  i. 
frontispiece,  ix.  frontispiece  ;  death 
of  son,  iii.  52 ;  ix.  130-138. 

Emerson,  Waldo,  iii.  52 ;  ix.  130-138. 

Emerson,  Rev.  William,  x.  374  ;  xi. 
75,  80,  90. 

Eminence,  cost  of,  ii.  97. 

Empedocles,  i.  190. 

Employments,  daily,  i.  258  ;  iii.  241 ; 
viii.  27.  See,  also,  Labor,  Occupa 
tion,  Work,  Vocation. 

Emulation,  in  education,  x.  151. 

ENCHANTER,  THE,  ix.  313. 

Enchantments,  vi.  299  ;  x.  185. 

Ends,  all  momentary,  i.  199  ;  iii.  233 ; 
iv.  106,  121 ;  brought  about  by  pal 
try  means,  vii.  154. 

Endymion,  vi.  161. 

Enemies,  to  be  made  now  and  then, 
vi.  155,  242. 

Energy,  conscious  and  unconscious, 
iii.  30 ;  vi.  71 ;  vii.  81  ;  x.  86,  262, 
264;  xi.  420. 

England  :  agriculture,  v.  94,  181  ;  air, 
xi.  138  ;  and  America,  see  America  ; 
anchored,  v.  43 ;  anomalies,  93 ; 
army,  65,  86 ;  arts,  84,  96  ;  civiliza 
tion,  xi.  153;  climate,  v.  41;  colo 
nies,  146,  287  ;  constitution,  vi.  241 ; 
contrasts,  v.  53 ;  decadence,  40, 261 ; 
no  place  for  faint-hearted,  102  ;  for 
eign  policy,  285 ;  a  garden,  37  ;  rich 
in  gentlemen,  iii.  137 ;  vii.  189 ; 
nationalities,  v.  54,  246;  genius 
maritime,  66,  93,  109;  maintains 
trade,  not  liberty,  xi.  225 ;  visits  to, 
T.7/. 

England,  Church  of,  v.  205-220;  x. 
112  ;  symbol  of  social  order,  xi.  375. 

English  language,  in  England,  v.  99, 

English  literature,  v.  39,  92,  221-246 ; 
xii.  232.  See,  also,  Books,  Litera 
ture,  Reading. 


296 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


En 


uglish  people,  ability,  v.  75-100,  135, 
152  ;  activity,  02  ;  fine  animals,  72  ; 
vi.  70 ;  aristocracy,  i.  370  ;  v.  166- 
190;  x.  463;  arithmetical  mind, 
163  ;  artificialness,  v.  96  ;  impris 
oned  in  backbone,  xi.  419 ;  blunt- 
ness,  v.  129 ;  body  speaks,  103 ;  bru 
tality,  64 ;  centrality,  46  ;  character, 
iv.  10;  v.  53,  124-139,  295;  cock- 
ayne,  140-148;  coldness,  104;  cos 
mopolitan  spirit,  92;  courage,  128, 
143 ;  decorum,  105,  110 ;  dinners, 
111 ;  dress,  84  ;  dullness,  121 ;  of 
the  earth,  earthy,  127 ;  earth-hun 
ger,  117  ;  eccentricity,  104,  140, 
160  ;  economy,  152  ;  education,  65, 
191-204  ;  viii.  125 ;  vi.  70 ;  faces,  v. 
67  ;  love  of  facts,  82,  222 ;  fair  play, 
79,  82  ;  family,  106  ;  no  fancy,  221 ; 
and  French,  82,  120,  123,  137 /,  142, 
145,  174,  290;  fruit,  93;  game-laws, 
73 //  genius,  iii.  219;  heroes,  132; 
honesty,  117 ;  horses,  72 ;  houses, 
106 /,  185  ;  x.  163  ;  hate  humbug,  v. 
119;  humorists,  140;  hunting,  71, 
74 ;  indifference,  103 ;  influence,  39, 
123;  insularity,  104;  law,  v.  96; 
levity,  241  ;  liberty-loving,  137 ;  xi. 
138  ;  libraries,  203  ;  literature,  221- 
246;  logical,  80 /;  loyal,  179;  ma 
chinery,  102,  153^,  238;  manli 
ness,  68  ;  manners,  101-113 ;  mastiff 
nature,  78;  materialism,  222,  239; 
melancholy,  124  /;  xii.  261;  money 
questions,  88;  mutual  help,  v.  98; 
myriad  personalities,  286 ;  names. 
172 ;  neatness,  105  ;  newspapers, 
134,  247  ;  nobility,  see  Aristocracy  ; 
obstinacy,  78,  81,  127 ;  openness, 
79,  123;  patriotism,  140;  perma 
nence,  105,  137,  171  ;  plainness, 
111 ;  vi.  146 ;  pluck,  101,  281 ;  po 
etry,  i.  162 ;  product  of  political 
economy,  97  ;  poverty,  149  ;  love  of 
precedent,  109 ;  pretension,  111, 
116 ;  probity,  v.  117  ;  property,  iv. 
146;  v.  87,  140,  159;  race,  47-74; 
love  of  reality,  116 ;  religion,  205- 
220 ;  reserve  of  power,  287  ;  regard 
for  rights,  82;  xi.  165;  routine, 
v.  288  ;  sailors,  35, 66 ;  Scandinavian 
spirit,  55 ;  x.  45  ;  science,  v.  240 ; 
self-complacency,  103,  141  ff;  shop 
keepers,  xi.  153;  solidarity,  v.  98; 
solvency,  151  ;  pride  in  bad  public 
speaking,  125  ;  sports,  71 ;  steam,  95 ; 
table-talk,  112  ;  temperament,  127, 
161 ;  thoroughness,  89  ;  "  Times," 
247-258  ;  no  transcendeutalists,  214  ; 
truth,  114-123;  universities,  191- 
204;  utility,  83,  238;  voice,  110; 


walk,  71 ;  wealth,  97,  122,  149,  158, 
164, 167  ;  vi.  115  ;  wit,  121 ;  women, 
67,  107  ;  wrath,  136. 

Ennui,  i.  270. 

Enthusiasm,  i.  238;  ii.  265,  300;  v. 
110 ;  vii.  58  ;  not  to  be  measured  by 
the  horse-power  of  the  understand 
ing,  viii.  218,  260 /;  x.  167;  xi. 
321,  382. 

Envy,  ii.  48  ;  x.  49. 

Epaminondas,  ii.  153 /,  243;  iii.  123; 
vi.  145. 

Epic  poetry,  iii.  32  ;  xi.  229. 

Epilepsies  of  wit  and  spirits,  ii.  191. 

Epitaph,  Sir  Jenkin  Grout's,  iii.  141. 

Epochs  of  life,  ii.  152 ;  of  history,  xi. 
188. 

Equality,  iii.  195,  265. 

Equator  of  life,  iii.  65 ;  x.  186. 

Equilibrium,  iv.  164  ;  x.  185. 

Equivalence,  ii.  296;  viii.  203,  209. 

Eric,  vi.  57. 

EROS,  ix.  89,  300. 

Errors,  vi.  244;  xii.  51.  See,  also, 
Blunders,  Mistakes. 

Essence,  ii.  116 ;  iv.  92. 

Essenes,  i.  322. 

Eternal,  in  man,  vii.  96 ;  x.  99. 

Eternity,  i.  247,  273 ;  ii.  256 ;  not  du 
ration,  vii.  175;  viii.  310;  ix.  13, 
288. 

Ether,  sulphuric,  vi.  142  ;  vii.  153. 

ETHICS,  SOVEEEIGNTY  OF,  x.  175-205; 
of  the  chisel-edge,  ii.  Ill ;  the  es 
sence  of  religion,  i.  62,  121 ;  x.  112/; 
its  laws  execute  themselves,  i.  122. 

Ethiops  sweet,  ix.  42. 

Etiquette,  iii.  98,  129,  131 ;  of  visits, 
viii.  90.  See,  also,  Decorum,  Man 
ners. 

Eton,  v.  198 /. 

Euler,  i.  60  ;  v.  240. 

Euphuism,  iii.  171. 

Euripides,  quoted,  i.  344 ;  ii.  240 ;  iv. 
132  ;  vii.  293  ;  viii.  192  ;  x.  19,  295  ; 
xii.  213. 

Europe,  iv.  53  ;  and  America,  see  un 
der  America ;  fee  for  entrance,  v. 
33  ;  gardens,  i.  347  ;  faded  garment, 
ii.  204 ;  migration  to,  xii.  255  ;  Plato 
embodies,  iv.  46 ;  vii.  190  ;  receding 
in  the  imagination,  i.  343 ;  tape 
worm  of,  vi.  140 ;  travel  to,  ii.  79, 
204 ;  vi.  140. 

EUROPE  AND  EUROPEAN  BOOKS,  xii. 
225. 

EVA,  To,  ix.  87. 

Evelyn,  John,   quoted,   v.   174 ;    vii. 

Evening  knowledge,  i.  76. 

Events,  robe  of  the  soul,  ii.  257 ;  x. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


297 


185  ;  and  persons  made  of  the  same 
stuff,  vi.  42  jf,  55,  58,  221,  239  ;  man 
a  match  for,  vii.  77  ;  reinforced  by, 
91 ,  dependent  on,  120 ;  what  im 
ports  is  what  we  think  of  them, 
viii.  278  ;  victims  of,  x.  40. 

Everett,  Edward,  x.  312-316. 

Evil,  merely  privative,  i.  123  ;  not  un 
mixed,  ii.  296 ;  good  of,  iv,  132 ;  vi. 
241;  vii.  29,  289;  made  to  serve 
good,  34. 

Evils,  needless,  ii.  129 ;  end  them 
selves,  x.  184,  223. 

Evolution,  iii.  173;  iv.  78;  vi.  20, 
158 i  vii.  23. 

Exaggeration,  of  evils,  i.  257  ;  ii.  126  ; 
of  single  aspects,  316;  iii.  177  /, 
223 ;  viii.  85 ;  from  want  of  skill  to 
describe  the  fact,  x.  160,  169. 

Examination-day,  x.  270. 

Excellence,  lames,  vii.  160 ;  of  man, 
x.  183. 

EXCELSIOR,  ix.  240. 

Exclusiveness,  excludes  itself,  ii.  107  ; 
unavoidable,  vii.  19 ;  viii.  89. 

Exercise,  i.  230  ;  viii.  265. 

EXILE,  THE,  ix.  245,  315. 

Exiles,  from  nature,  viii.  179. 

Existence,  the  problem  of,  ii.  304 ;  iv. 
77. 

Expansion,  power  of,  iii.  59  ;  iv.  79  ; 
xii.  53. 

Expedients.     See  Resources. 

Expense,  what  for  ?  i.  232 ;  ii.  221 ; 
should  proceed  from  character,  vi. 
109.0V  vii.  106 /;  xi.  415. 

EXPERIENCE,  iii.  47-86  ;  ix.  228 . 

i.  96;  ii.  40,  163,  251,  310;  vi. 

78  ;  vii.  302,  309  ;  xii.  64,  74  ;  one's 
own,  stained  with  error,  that  of 
others,  ideal,  ii.  163,  187. 

Experiment,  ii.  296;  iii.  54,  79,  245; 
vii.  175 ;  x.  311. 

Experimenter,  Emerson  an  endless  ex 
perimenter,  ii.  296. 

Explanations,  just  persons  refuse  to 
explain  themselves,  iii.  75  ;  xii.  195. 
See,  also,  Apology. 

Expression,  implies  a  mixture  of  will, 
ii.  313;  iii.  11,  13,  28,  68;  tax  on, 
vi.  183 ;  viii.  115,  266 ;  nature  bent 
on,  vi.  170 ;  need  of,  iv.  251 ;  vi. 
284  ;  excess  of,  x.  168. 

Extremists,  the  soul  of  political  party, 
xii.  103. 

Eye,  vi.  170-174  ;  adaptations  of,  i. 
164;  alter  all,  viii.  302;  artist,  i. 
21 ;  vi.  171 ;  bandage,  i.  143  ;  beauty 
a  necessity  to,  vi.  50  ;  ix.  39  ;  frame 
cities,  61  ;  color  of,  vi.  15 ;  corn- 
in,  xii.  127  ;  compliment  to 


the  race,  vii.  284  ;  confessions  in,  ii. 
150 ;  vi.  173 ;  conversing  with,  iv. 
48  ;  vi.  24,  173 ;  vii.  285 ;  courage 
of,  ii.  224;  vii.  241,  244,  250;  Cu 
pid's,  vi.  274 //  ix.  92;  debt  to,  x. 
162  ;  dreaded,  iii.  132 ;  makes  es 
tates,  vi.  60;  exorbitant,  iii.  215; 
farmer's,  vi.  171 ;  fate  in,  viii.  303  ; 
fineness  of  appreciation,  vii.  151 ;  few 
see  flowers,  xii.  29;  man's,  set  in 
his  forehead,  i.  91 ;  look  straight 
forward,  iii.  131 ;  goodness  makes, 
viii.  324  ;  govern  by,  x.  153 ;  art  the 
gymnastics  of,  ii.  333 ;  sympathy 
with  hand,  vii.  151  ;  x.  28  ;  xii.  127  ; 
hate  in,  xi.  192  ;  show  health,  vi. 
276;  hero's,  34;  holden,  ii.  139; 
holiday  in,  iii.  145 ;  vi.  173 ;  makes 
the  horizon,  iii.  77  ;  predicts  light, 
ii.  40  ;  makes  what  it  sees,  i.  21,  77  ; 
vi.  295 ;  viii.  209 ;  military,  vi.  59, 
173;  vii.  78;  x.  154;  muddy,  ii. 
148 ;  vi.  174 ;  two  pairs,  i.  230 ;  x. 
227 ;  passion  gives,  vii.  285 ;  viii. 
15;  indicates  rank,  295;  reverted, 
ii.  121 ;  makes  the  hero  or  saint,  iii. 
77  ;  sees  through  the  earth,  vi.  269 ; 
vii.  164;  seeing  without,  iii.  270; 
sky  full  of  eyes,  ii.  339;  study  of, 
xii.  11 ;  supplicating,  viii.  80 ;  up 
side  down,  i.  56  ;  will  gives,  viii. 
139 ;  womanly,  273 ;  of  youth,  vii. 
280. 
Eyvind,  conversion,  vi.  197. 

FABLE,  ix.  71. 

Fables,  ii.  104 ;  we  shall  be,  iv.  147 ; 
vi.  291 ;  viii.  27. 

Face,  ancestral,  v.  53 ;  animal,  x.  13 ; 
xii.  21 ;  charm,  ii.  170 ;  cheerful, 
vi.  153 ;  of  children,  272 ;  conquer 
ing  one's,  169;  English,  v.  51,  68; 
expression,  vi.  174,  286;  xii.  211; 
inviting  and  warning,  viii.  83  ;  never 
lies,  ii.  148;  power  of,  vii.  78;  a 
record,  vi.  283 ;  a  revealer,  170  ;  viii. 
84 ;  sour,  ii.  57 ;  subordinates  cos 
tume,  viii.  163 ;  symmetry,  vi.  283 ; 
types,  283. 

Facts,  books  of,  viii.  279  ;  no  contend 
ing  with,  95 ;  xi.  172  ;  day  full  of, 
x.  131 ;  cannot  dispose  of  other 
people's,  iii.  82 ;  and  dreams,  x. 
162 ;  eloquence  grounded  on,  vii. 
92 //  epiphany,  x.  132;  faith  in, 
iii.  91 ;  fugitive,  ii.  14,  257 ;  ful 
crum,  xii.  54 ;  gold  and  gems  in,  x. 
132 ;  the  great  are  the  near,  vii. 
106;  as  illustration,  viii.  16;  im 
mortalized,  ii.  305  ;  not  the  fact  but 
the  impression  of  it  on  your  mind 


298 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


is  important,  x.  439;  preexist  as 
laws,  ii.  9,  16,  304;  language  of, 
312;  meanings  of,  iii.  10;  memory 
holds  only  so  many,  xii.  71 ;  natural, 
parallel  with  moral,  vii.  217  ;  xii.  5  ; 
new,  not  needed,  iii.  22  ;  nouns  of 
intellect,  vi.  288;  other  people's, 
iii.  82 ;  true  poetry,  i.  78 ;  public 
must  be  individualized  and  pri 
vate  generalized,  ii.  25  ;  all  related, 
viii.  71 ;  no  sacred  and  no  profane, 
ii.  297;  statement  of,  vii.  70,  85, 
93  ;  symbolism  of,  iii.  25  ;  vi.  288  ; 
terminus  of  past,  i.  40 ;  xii.  54 ; 
time,  ii.  14 ;  two  sides,  iv.  143 ; 
no  ultimate,  ii.  284 ;  use,  310 ;  viii. 
1C,  278  ;  wishes  coined  into,  vii. 
308. 

Faculties,  no  inventory  of,  vi.  55 ;  vii. 
308 ;  x.  265. 

Failure,  inlet  to  higher  advantage,  i. 
151 ;  x.  59. 

Fairies,  ii.  23  ;  vi.  288 ;  vii.  168. 

Faith,  the  course  of  things  teaches, 
ii.  132;  Americans  have  little,  i. 
237 ;  x.  197 ;  xi.  414 ;  not  parasite 
on  authority,  ii.  276 ;  iv.  172  ;  dawn 
of  a  new  day,  vi.  206;  and  dog- 
*na,  i.  140  ;  flash-of-lightning,  332 ; 
makes  its  own  forms,  147 ;  govern 
ments  stand  on,  x.  202;  want  of, 
iii.  254;  vi.  199;  x.  210,  213;  in 
moments,  ii.  251;  poetry  is,  viii. 
35 ;  founded  on  science,  vi.  229  ;  ex 
pressed  by  skepticism,  iv.  173 ;  test 
of,  i.  135  ;  transcendentalism,  an 
excess  of,  320  ;  and  works,  viii.  261 ; 
x.  404.  See,  also,  Belief,  Doubt, 
Skepticism. 

Falkland,  Lord,  iii.  122 ;  iv.  19 ;  vii. 
118. 

Fall  of  man,  the  discovery  that  we 
exist,  iii.  77. 

Falsehood,  with  every  truth,  i.  285; 
betrays  itself,  ii.  148 ;  vii.  41 ;  viii. 
154;  first  show  of,  x.  209.  See, 
also,  Lies,  Truth. 

FAME,  ix.  31 1/. 

unaccounted  for,  iii.  89 ;  mean 
ing  of,  viii.  296  ;  xii.  146. 

Fanaticism,  no  strong  performance 
without  a  touch  of,  ii.  134  ;  iii.  178  ; 
vii.  273. 

Fancy,  vi.  296;  vii.  174;  viii.  32;  x. 
79.  See,  also,  Imagination. 

Faneuil  Hall,  vi.  248  ;  vii.  88  ;  xi.  403. 

Faraday,  Michael,  viii.  10,  289,  294 ; 
xii.  3. 

FAREWELL,  THE  LAST,  ix.  222. 

Farmer,  i.  348,  360  ;  vi.  100 ;  xii. 
219;  timed  to  nature  and  not  to 


city  watches,  vii.  134.    See,  also, 

Farming. 
FARMING,  vii.  131-148;    xii.  219-224; 

aesthetic,  i.    47,   225,  229 ;   iii. 

240  ;  vi.  Hi  ;  not  to  be  united  with 

scholarship. ,  vi.     112.      See,    also, 

Agriculture. 
Fashion,  is  virtue  gone  to  seed,  iii. 

120,  125,  138,  142,  147,  150 ;  vi.  178, 

278 ;  vii.  204 ;  viii.  164  ;  x.  40 ;  xi. 

411 ;  xii.  235  ;  hates  pretenders,  iii. 

128 ;  hates  solitary,  gloomy  people, 

FATE,'  vi.  7-52  ;  ix.  171,  241 ;  i. 

285,  288;  ii.  181,  329;  iv.  53,  167; 
vi.  233,  300  ;  name  for  unpenetrated 
causes,  35 ;  is  limitation,  24 ;  free- 
dom  a  part  of,  26,  51 ;  vii.  41,  261 ; 
viii.  287;  ix.  22,  110,  121,  206;  x. 
15,  75,  198  ;  xi.  218,  412  ;  xii.  79  ;  is 
power  that  shall  be,  vi.  39;  solu 
tion,  49  ;  subdued  to  use,  35  ;  tragic 
element  in  life,  xii.  262 ;  an  im 
mense  whim,  263.  See  Destiny, 
Necessity. 

Faults,  we  have  to  thank  our  faults, 
ii.  113 ;  vi.  245 ;  x.  54,  189. 

Fear,  springs  from  ignorance,  i.  104 ; 
vii.  247  ;  from  wrong,  ii.  107  /;  xi. 
168 ;  a  bad  counsellor,  ii.  224,  244 ; 
iii.  189 ;  vii.  244,  250,  260  ;  viii.  142, 
163  ;  x.  87,  450 ;  xi.  197. 

Fellowship,  excess  of,  i.  324 ;  iii.  133 ; 
iv.  124. 

Feminine  element,  x.  121. 

Fence,  powers  of  a,  vii.  142. 

Fenris  wolf,  vi.  25. 

Fermentation,  foes  to,  iii.  240. 

Ferocity  in  Nature,  ii.  235  ;  vi.  13  ;  x. 
182. 

Feudalism,  i.  173,  355  ff;  v.  169,  289; 
xi.  198. 

Fiction,  insipid  compared  with  fact, 
x.  17,  384. 

Fidelity,  the  general  purpose,  iii.  264. 

Figures,  foundation  of  speech,  i.  34 ; 
iii.  34 ;  viii.  16. 

Firdusi,  viii.  229. 

Fire,  viii.  274. 

First  books  best,  xii.  221. 

First-born  of  world,  ii.  204. 

Fish,  man  in  the  sea,  xii.  20. 

Fitness,  vi.  41,  47,  275;  vii.  55. 

Five,  nature  loves  the  number,  ix. 
44. 

Fixtures,  none  in  nature  or  man,  ii. 
282,  286 ;  vi.  277 ;  viii.  190. 

Flags,  iii.  21 ;  xi.  413. 

Flattery,  sincerity  more  agreeable 
than,  ii.  274  ;  iii.  259 ;  x.  27. 

Flaxinan,  John,  iii.  83 ;  xi.  395. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


299 


Flea  of  conventions,  x.  353. 

Fletcher,  John,  quoted,  ii.  77,  168. 

Floors,  scouring,  ii.  156. 

Flowers,  calendar,  ix.  154 ;  celestial, 
iv.  137  ;  ciphers,  ii.  167  ;  of  Con 
cord,  xi.  42;  of  courtesy,  iii.  134; 
cut,  vi.  284;  x.  179;  as  gifts,  iii. 
153 /;  jilt  us,  175;  of  the  mind,  i. 
203  ;  iii.  30  ;  of  old  age,  34 ;  of  plea 
sure,  ii.  100;  Shakers,  ix.  86;  of 
sky,  iii.  25 ;  tint  of,  from  root,  vi. 
276. 

Flowing,  all  things,  iii.  37 ;  vii.  140 ; 
viii.  190. 

FLUTE,  THE,  ix.  248 ;  heard  far 
ther  than  cart,  vi.  280. 

Fly,  as  untamable  as  a  hyena,  vi.  255  ; 
Musagetes,  viii.  270. 

Flying-machines,  xii.  250.  See,  also, 
Balloons. 

Foibles,  iii.  217 ;  vi.  245. 

Folly,  ii.  96 ;  remedy  against,  vi.  255 /, 
273 ;  xii.  244. 

Folsom,  Mrs.  Abigail,  the  flea  of  con 
ventions,  x.  353. 

Fontenelle,  vii.  304 ;  quoted,  v.  45  ; 
vii.  284 ;  x.  109 ;  xi.  184. 

Fools,  of  ideas,  vi.  227,  240,  307  ;  ac 
rid,  255 ;  x.  143. 

Fops,  vi.  91 ;  x.  65 ;  xi.  273 ;  of  fields, 
iii.  170. 

FORBEARANCE,  ix.  78. 

Force,  a  practical  lie,  iii.  205 ;  needed 
where  men  are  selfish,  210. 

FORCES,  PERPETUAL,  viii.  201;  x.  69- 
89,  180,  237. 

the  baud  that  ties  them  together 

is  universal  good,  86. 

Foreign  things,  admiration  of,  ii.  81. 

Foreigners,  v.  141,  145. 

FORERUNNERS,  ix.  79. 

FORESTER,  ix.  240. 

Forests,  i.  15,  162 ;  iii.  163 ;  vii.  281  ; 
architecture,  ii.  2if;  old,  decom 
posed  for  the  new,  viii.  190  ; 
wait  till  the  wayfarer  has  passed,  ii. 
23, 

Forgetfulness,  xii.  73,  79,  269.  See, 
also,  Memory,  Remembrance. 

Form  (figure),  i.  22 ;  ii.  19,  259,  314, 
330 ;  iii.  67  ;  iv.  102 ;  vi.  286,  289 ; 
vii.  174,  284 ;  dependence  on  soul, 
iii.  9,  15,  18,  25;  iv.  110 /;  vi.  14, 
277  ;  vii.  123;  viii.  22, 153  ;  xii.  119, 

Forms,   religious,  i.  147 ;    iii.  72 ;   x. 

86,  105,  196,  209;    xi.  25,  27,  220, 

269 ;  political,  244,  254. 
Fortune,    ii.   87;     iii.   74;    vi.   43 // 

viii.  233,  287 ;  x.  20,  24,  27,  46,  48. 

185. 


FORTUNE  OF  THB  REPUBLIC,  xi.  393- 
425. 

Fortune-telling,  ii.  265;  vii.  105;  x. 
16. 

Fountains,  iii.  99. 

Fourier  and  Fourierism,  i.  360  f;  iv. 
175,  245;  x.  235,  326-338,  345;  xi. 
332. 

Fourth  of  July,  ODE,  ix.  173. 

Fox,  Charles  James,  iii.  138,  260 ;  viii. 
301 ;  xi.  140 ;  quoted,  vi.  247 ;  viii. 
26. 

Fox,  George,  iii.  180  ;  ix.  244 ;  x.  112 ; 
quoted,  iy.  174  ;  xi.  390. 

Fractions,  in  society  we  are,  vii.  14. 

France,  blackboard  for  England,  v. 
141;  influence,  v.  39,  123;  poet 
never  grew  in,  ix.  191  ;  revolutions, 
v.  174 ;  x.  38. 

Frankness,  ii.  223. 

Frederick  the  Great,  viii.  300. 

Free,  one  must  be,  to  free  others,  vii. 
93. 

FREE  RELIGIOUS  ASSOCIATION,  RE 
MARKS  AT,  xi.  379-384 ;  SPEECH,  385- 
392. 

Free  trade,  xi.  281,  422.  See,  also, 
Protection,  Tariff,  Taxes. 

FREEDOM,  ix.  172  ;  necessitated,  or  part 
of  fate,  vi.  27,  229 ;  American,  viii. 
200  ;  ix.  179  ;  has  its  own  guards,  x. 
197  ;  virtue  essential  to,  x.  87 ;  xi. 
200,  221 ;  the  perfectness  of  man, 
xii.  167,  226.  See,  also,  Liberty, 
Slavery. 

French  people,  must  have  a  career,  x. 
50;  celerity,  iv.  168;  language,  v. 
116, 142 ;  ruffles,  84  ;  women,  viii.  92. 

Friends,  i.  51 ;  iii.  109  ;  vii.  124  ;  viii. 
88  ;  do  not  apologize  to,  ii.  152  ;  mu 
tual  attraction,  i.  80 ;  ii.  143,  275, 
293  ;  hi.  110 ;  viii.  91 ;  as  books,  we 
would  have  within  reach,  but  sel 
dom  use,  ii.  204 ;  compact  between, 
vi.  184  ;  do  not  run  to  seek,  ii.  275  ; 
iii.  110;  for  conversation,  one  to 
one,  ii.  197 ;  give  depth,  vi.  254 ; 
dreams  and  fables,  ii.  203 ;  echo, 
199;  are  not  their  own  highest 
forms,  vi.  273 ;  vii.  122 ;  not  to 
adopt  their  follies,  ii.  71 ;  easily 
great  with,  viii.  91  ;  gulfs  between, 
vii.  14  ;  hope  of  heart,  iii.  Ill  ;  em 
body  ideas,  i.  51 ;  x.  62 ;  represent 
ideas  they  do  not  pass,  ii.  287  ;  iii. 
59 ;  x.  62  ;  Janus-faced,  ii.  204 ;  how 
we  know  them,  267  ;  life  is  too 
short  for,  vi.  232,  258  ;  limitations, 
ii.  189,  206,  287 ;  not  made  but  al 
lowed,  iii.  110 ;  make  us  do  what  we 
can,  vi.  258 ;  viii.  91 ;  under  masks, 


300 


GENERAL  INDEX 


vi.  154;  ornament  of  house,  vii. 
124 ;  we  cannot  part  with,  ii.  120  ; 
enlarge  our  powers,  vi.  260;  viii. 
273  ;  related,  meet,  iii.  110  ;  remem 
bered  by  their  reading,  viii.  185; 
need  not  seek,  ii.  275 ;  select,  226 ; 
give  standard  of  excellence,  i.  51 ; 
trust  in,  iii.  109 ;  vi.  184 ;  truth,  ii. 
193,  199,  287;  unknown,  xii.  253; 
advertise  us  of  our  wants,  i.  327  ;  fro 
zen  wine,  ix.  291  ;  the  wise  have  no, 
iii.  207. 

FRIENDSHIP,  ii.  181-206 ;  ix.  232,  247  ; 
is  for  aid  and  comfort,  ii.  196;  be 
atitude,  iii.  Ill ;  too  good  to  be  be 
lieved,  ii.  187  ;  a  compromise,  191 ; 
endeavors  after,  vii.  14  ;  ethics,  125 ; 
feet  of,  ii.  196;  evanescent,  205; 
festival  of  nature,  iii.  109;  buys 
friendship,  vi.  120 ;  not  frost-work, 
ii.  192 ;  is  good  understanding,  vi. 
184;  Hafiz  on,  258;  viii.  245;  ix. 
247;  happiness,  iii.  109;  vii.  124; 
viii.  88  ;  of  heroes,  vii.  14 ;  nature  its 
husk  and  shell,  ii.  192;  love  the 
symbol  of,  iii.  109 ;  vii.  125 ;  man 
ners  a  guard  to,  v.  180  ;  all  momen 
tary,  iii.  78 ;  iv.  123 ;  vi.  230 ;  not 
named,  259 ;  order  of  nobility,  x. 
139;  in  Oriental  poetry,  viii.  245; 
knit  by  persecution,  xi.  35;  provi 
sion  for,  vi.  259 ;  pudency  in,  259  ;  re 
ality,  306  ;  religion,  xi.  384  ;  may  be 
all  on  one  side,  but  never  unre 
quited,  ii.  206 ;  a  friend  should  be 
high  enough  to  slight  us,  286  ;  strict 
and  serious,  196;  vi.  258;  needs 
time,  179  ;  training,  259 ;  trust,  ii. 
192 ;  must  be  very  two,  before 
there  can  be  very  one,  199  ;  virtue 
attracts,  iv.  20;  x.  202;  the  only 
way  to  have  a  friend  is  to  be  one,  ii. 
202. 

Frigga,  xi.  338. 

Frivolity,  vi.  255  ;  viii.  330. 

Frugality,  base  and  heroic,  i.  234. 

Fruits,  iii.  153 /. 

FUGITIVE  SLAVE  LAW,  xi.  203-230; 
159. 

Fuller-Ossoli,  Margaret,  x.  324,  340, 
342 ;  xii.  79. 

Fuller,  Thomas,  quoted,  v.  117,  135, 
169,  187,  210 ;  vi.  143 ;  vii.  272 ;  x. 
440 ;  xii.  78. 

Fungus,  i.  242. 

Furies,  i.  233 ;  iii.  155 ;  vi.  107,  159, 
245 ;  ix.  243. 

Fury  of  performance,  v.  102  ;  vii.  16 ; 
x.  147. 

Fuseli,  quoted,  v.  232  ;  vi.  177. 

Future,  party  of  the,  i.  255 ;  x.  307  ; 


God  has  no  answer  about,   ii.   67, 
266 /;  iii.  69;  vi.  223;  x.  15. 
Future  life.    See  Immortality. 

Galiani,  Abbe",  vii.  221. 

Games,  the  education  of,  vi.  137. 

GARDEN,  Mr,  ix.  197-200. 

GARDENER,  ix.  239. 

Gardens,  i.  347  ;  iii.  167  ;  vi.  112 /;  vii. 
143.  See,  also,  Farming. 

Garments  of  dissimulation,  ii.  193 /. 

Garrets,  ii.  215,  310. 

Gas  on  the  brain,  vi.  146. 

Gate  of  gifts,  vi.  16  ;  ix.  241. 

Gates,  the  world  all,  viii.  133. 

Gautama,  quoted,  xii.  32. 

Geese,  wild,  i.  162 ;  ix.  143. 

Gem,  century  makes,  i.  265. 

Genelas,  cloak,  ii.  38;  vii.  119. 

Generalizations,  ii.  288;  iii.  225/;  iv. 
176  ;  v.  229,  232  ;  viii.  72,  217. 

Generosity,  iii.  141, 153  ;  vii.  111. 

Genius,  admirable  at  distance,  iii.  217 ; 
of  human  race,  i.  351 ;  or  daemon, 
iii.  49 ;  vi.  273 ;  x.  21 ;  no  lazy  angel, 
xii.  40  ;  arrogance,  iv.  144  ;  ascetic, 
ii.  218;  needs  audience,  v.  50;  is 
bias,  viii.  291 ;  has  no  external  bio 
graphy,  iv.  45;  borrows,  viii.  182, 
185 ;  call  of,  ii.  53  ;  catholic,  270  ;  viii. 
300 ;  no  choice  to,  iv.  182  ;  exalts  the 
common,  vii.  169 ;  xii.  39 ;  courage 
of,  vii.  253 ;  creates,  i.  91 ;  viii.  191 ; 
not  to  be  criticised,  iii.  230  ;  dearly 
paid  for,  vi.  133  ;  debt  to,  234  ;  de 
fined,  ii.  47,  218,  255 ;  iii.  27 ;  viii. 
191,  218  ;  x.  78 ;  xii.  39  ;  despotism 
of,  vi.  286  ;  favoritism  shown  to, 
x.  257  ;  makes  fingers,  i.  197  ;  en 
emy  of  genius,  92  ;  seeks  genius,  x. 
144 ;  ours  should  be  more  of  a 
genius,  iii.  50 ;  unites  two  gifts,  ii. 
312  ;  xii.  42  ;  growth  of,  ii.  258  ;  is 
health,  x.  46 ;  an  infinite  hope,  iii. 
257  ;  a  hospitality,  i.  231 ;  tyrant  of 
the  hour,  ii.  331  ;  of  humanity,  iv. 
36  /;  imperfections,  vii.  12  ;  impru 
dent,  ii.  220 ;  is  intellect  construc 
tive,  303,  312;  labor,  i.  328;  iso 
lation,  vii.  12  ;  liberates,  iv.  23 ;  x. 
55 ;  obedience  to,  the  only  liber 
ation,  iii.  2G9  ;  of  life,  iv.  260 ;  vii. 
14  ;  is  love,  i.  207  ;  madness,  viii. 
264  ;  memory,  xii.  72  ;  miracle,  viii. 
218;  moral  tone,  x.  179;  of  na 
tion,  iii.  219;  obedience  to,  269; 
xii.  56  ;  is  love  of  perfection,  i.  207  ; 
pith  of,  in  few  hours,  iii.  51  ;  pro 
gressive,  i.  91 ;  receptive,  iv.  181, 
183 ;  from  rectitude,  vi.  207 ;  reli 
gious,  ii.  270;  royal  right,  x.  64, 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


301 


258  ;  best  plain  set,  vii.  112 ;  sickly, 
iv.  274 ;  solitude  the  friend  of,  vi. 
149 ;  solstice,  209  ;  of  the  day,  spec 
ulative,  i.  268 ;  spontaneous,  160  ; 
vii.  174;  works  in  sport,  vi.  250; 
Stoical  plenum,  i.  159  ;  surprise,  iii. 
70  ;  and  talent,  i.  159,  207  ;  iii.  16 ; 
iv  144,  163  ;  vi.  220  ;  x.  262  /,  270, 
316 ;  xii.  52 ;  test,  its  power  to 
use  facts  as  symbols,  viii.  38;  of 
the  time,  xii.  201  ;  ultimates  its 
thought  in  a  thing,  viii.  22;  in 
trade,  i.  220 ;  iii.  92 ;  tragedy  of, 
i.  231  ;  universal,  91,  159,  208 ;  ii. 
218,  270  ;  iii.  258 ;  universities  hos 
tile  to,  v.  203  ;  unlocks  chains  of 
use,  x.  55;  its  value  is  in  its  ve 
racity,  iii.  16  ;  in  virtue,  viii.  26fl  ; 
grown  wanton,  x.  53 ;  implies  will, 
xii.  42. 

Gentility,  ii.  231 ;  iii.  120. 

Gentleman,  iii.  118  ff,  134,  141;  v. 
116,  199/.-  viii.  100;  x.  35,  40,  54, 
63,  66  ;  xi.  217,  262,  419. 

Geography  of  fame,  ii.  242. 

Geology,  i.  164 ;  ii.  21 ;  iii.  81  ;  his 
tory,  173  ;  vi.  20,  267  ;  vii.  138  ;  viii. 
14,  21,  202 ;  x.  180,  317  ;  xii.  5. 

Geometry,  iii.  176;  iv.  82;  vi.  210; 
viii.  104. 

George,  St.,  v.  147. 

Germans,  earnestness,  iv.  269  ;  gener- 
alizers,  v.  232  ;  semi-Greeks,  241 ; 
honesty,  iv.  267  ;  v.  114  ;  language, 
99  ;  literature,  xii.  153,  180  ;  Shake 
speare's  influence,  iv.  195 ;  xii.  180  ; 
truth,  iv.  267. 

Gibbon,  Edward,  vii.  195  //  quoted,  i. 
26. 

Gibraltar  of  propriety,  v.  110. 

GIFTS,  iii.  151-159  ;  ii.  152  ;  iv. 

14. 

Gifts,  natural,  ii.  81 ;  vi.  16 ;  ix.  32  ; 
x.  85,  262,  266. 

Gingham-mill,  vi.  81. 

Giotto,  vii.  291. 

Girls,  ii.  164,  244;  iii.  234;  vi.  189. 
See,  also,  Maid. 

GIVE  ALL  TO  LOVE,  ix.  84. 

Giving,  iii.  156;  iv.  13.  See,  also, 
Gifts. 

Gladiators,  vii.  220. 

Gladstone,  quoted,  vi.  201. 

Globes,  human  beings  like,  iii.  78. 

Gnat  grasping  the  world,  xii.  11. 

Go  alone,  i.  143. 

God,  all  in  all,  ii.  292 ;  all-fair,  i.  30 ; 
attributes,  ii.  255;  belief  in,  132; 
comes  without  bell,  255  ;  bride 
groom  of  soul,  iv.  124  ;  behind  cot 
ton-bales,  xi.  334;  day,  name  for, 


vii.  160 ;  denial,  x.  253 ;  in  distribu 
tion,  i.  200  ,  iii.  227  ;  x.  263  ;  enters 
by  private  door,  ii.  305 ;  exists,  i.  132  ; 
ii.  132;  x.  187;  expelling,  i.  287; 
father,  33;  indefinable,  66;  incom 
ing  of,  195 ;  iii.  71 ;  is,  not  was, 
i.  142;  ii.  66;  never  jests,  i.  53; 
pure  law,  x.  105 ;  in  man,  i.  16,  68, 
72,  122,  130,  186  ;  ii.  76, 78, 274  ;  viii. 
330 ;  x.  134,  230  ;  xi.  383  ;  in  men,  i. 
198 ;  in  matter,  66  ;  x.  105, 214 ;  with 
out  mediator,  i.  143 ;  messengers, 
ii.  67  ;  x.  100  ;  works  in  moments,  vii. 
170 ;  nobody  against,  but  God,  x.  23  ; 
under  obligation,  ii.  239 ;  omnipres 
ence,  x.  192 ;  painter,  vi.  296  ;  per 
manence,  ii.  297  ;  viii.  317  ;  polite 
ness,  iii.  69;  poor,  vi.  206;  speaks 
not  prose,  viii.  17 ;  savage  idea  of, 
vi.  12;  we  see,  306;  his  self-exist 
ence,  ii.  70 ;  the  servant  of  all,  xi. 
277 ;  his  speaking,  ii.  66 ;  x.  193  ; 
speaking  for,  99  ;  substance,  iv. 
170 ;  enveloping  thought,  ii.  276  ; 
truth,  xi.  165 ;  hangs  weights  on  the 
wires,  vi.  244 ;  needs  no  wise  men, 
iii.  180  ;  without  is  solitude,  x.  213 ; 
witness,  xi.  388. 

Gods,  apparition,  x.  102 ;  arrive,  ix. 
85 ;  of  our  creation,  vii.  281 ;  crock 
ery,  xi.  228  ;  disguised,  vii.  168 ;  ix. 
119;  xii.  21,  39;  expressors  are, 
viii.  205 ;  x.  143,  168 ;  game  of  ques 
tions,  vii.  225;  Greek,  iii.  40;  vi. 
197  ;  not  hidden  from  gods,  iii.  110  ; 
ideas  are,  220 ;  iv.  84 ;  we  make 
our,  10;  vi.  196;  we  meet  none 
because  we  harbor  none,  220 ;  let 
us  sit  apart  as,  iii.  133 ;  sell  at  fair 
price,  vi.  107;  silent,  ii.  319;  of 
tradition  and  rhetoric,  274  ;  man 
kind  believe  in  two,  vi.  35 ;  young 
mortal  among,  308. 

GOETHE,  iv.  247-276 ;  ix.  191,  313 ;  xii. 
189-201. 

on  architecture,  i.  49 ;  viii.  177 ; 

on  art,  v.  260  ;  on  the  beautiful,  vi. 
274;  Carlyle  on,  v.  260;  charity, 
iii.  102  ;  inspired  by  common  things, 
i.  Ill;  vi.  145;  criticised,  x.  24; 
delight  in,  iii.  58  ;  on  the  demoni 
acal,  x.  22;  on  dreams,  15;  Faust, 
viii.  69 /;  x.  234,  310;  want  of 
frankness,  xii.  192 ;  Helene,  ii.  36 ; 
iii.  230;  imagination,  viii.  16;  on 
immortality,  324,  326;  insight,  x. 
281,  289;  on  intellect,  iv.  166;  x. 
289 ;  misjudged,  iii.  230  ;  Musagetes, 
viii.  269  ;  on  Napoleon,  vi.  222  ;  per 
ception  of  identity,  iv.  22  ;  on  quo 
tation,  viii.  190 ;  on  riches,  vi.  96 ; 


302 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


scientific  theories,  x.  319  ;  not  spir 
itual,  xii.  41;  Wilhelm  Meister, 
195 /,  235;  on  wishes  of  youth,  vi. 
49. 

Good,  beauty  of,  vii.  291 ;  doctor,  vi. 
241 ;  dowdiness  of,  i.  335 ;  first,  x. 
258;  fountain  of,  i.  125;  inunda 
tion,  ii.  29G  ;  love  of,  iii.  12 ;  posi 
tive,  evil  merely  privative,  i.  123 ; 
reproductive,  28  ;  runs  in  veins,  iii. 
248 ;  x.  344  ;  solid,  ii.  136 ;  all  souls 
led  to,  ix.  78 ;  take  what  we  find, 
iii.  G4 ;  without  tax,  ii.  102  ;  every 
thought  and  thing  reflects,  iv.  68; 
visionary,  xi.  190. 

Good  breeding,  see  Behavior,  Man 
ners. 

GOOD  BYE,  ix.  37 /. 

Good  nature,  iii.  137  ;  vii.  220. 

Good  will,  makes  insight,  vii.  291 ; 
viii.  324;  ix.  202;  xii.  57.  See 
Kindness. 

Goodness,  in  badness,  viii.  299 ;  one 
ness  with  beauty,  iv.  57  ;  xii.  117, 
132;  is  being,  iv.  132,  138;  must 
have  edge,  ii.  53;  makes  intelli 
gence,  vii.  324  ;  all  works  for,  x. 
93 ;  not  obsolete,  vii.  59 :  raptures, 
viii.  261 ;  sanctity,  i.  131 ;  above 
self,  x.  198  ;  smiles,  vi.  250 ;  stand 
ard,  i.  144 ;  strong,  206 ;  not  sepa 
rate  from  truth,  210  ;  iv.  126  ;  uni 
versal,  vii.  289 ;  dies  hi  wishes,  vi. 
33. 

Goods,  shadow  of  good,  ii.  293;  vii. 
112. 

Gossip,  of  importance  as  safeguard, 
vi.  212  ;  vii.  232  ;  viii.  85,  90 ;  in  so 
cialist  communities,  x.  343. 

Gothic  cathedrals,  origin,  ii.  17,  24 /; 
built  by  love  and  fear,  vii.  56,  58. 

Government,  aim,  iii.  204 ;  American 
capacity  for,  xi.  410;  bad,  remedy 
for,  ii.  97 ;  by  bar-rooms,  xi.  402 ; 
clumsy,  i.  358  ;  its  end,  culture,  iii. 
196 ;  dependence  on,  xi.  198  ;  a  dic 
tator,  282  ;  rests  on  faith,  x.  202  ;  of 
force,  iii.  210  ;  forms,  198  ;  xi.  244 ; 
fossil,  i.  358  ;  the  less  the  better,  iii. 
206  ;  x.  120, 142  ;  meddling,  iii.  205  ; 
methods,  358  ;  morality,  xi.  288, 
422 ;  objects  of,  i.  359,  363  ;  iii.  193 ; 
xi.  278 ;  obstruction,  244 ;  expres 
sion  of  state  of  cultivation,  iii.  192  ; 
of  politicians,  xi.  401  ;  likely  to  fall 
into  private  hands,  i.  364 ;  an  im 
pure  theocracy,  iii.  204  ;  titular,  xi. 
403. 

Grab,  promptness  to,  i.  235. 

GRACE,  ix.  299 ;  vi.  2G5,  276,  284 ; 

viii.  79. 


Grafts,  xii.  24. 

Grandeur,  x.  230. 

Granite,  i.  274  ;  xii.  111. 

Grasp  of  minds,  xii.  44. 

Gratitude,  iii.  157. 

Gravitation,  i.  148,  206 ;  iii.  269  ;  in 
mental  phenomena,  iv.  106;  vi.  12, 
209 ;  vii.  141,  227  ;  viii.  21, 127,  210  ; 
x.  130 ;  xi.  223 ;  xii.  24. 

Gravity,  centre  of,  ii.  216;  vii.  31, 
282 ;  x.  189. 

Gray,  Thomas,  quoted,  viii.  58,  272. 

GREAT  MEN,  USES  OF,  iv.  7-38. 

helped  by  adversity,  ii.  113 ;  vi. 

222 ;  viii.  219  ;  of  great  affinities,  iv. 
43 ;  age  mischooses,  ii.  204 ;  iv.  193 ; 
no  boasters,  vi.  11 ;  have  not  great 
sons,  xii.  110 ;  indifferent  to  cir 
cumstances,  vii.  115  •,  composite,  iv. 
96  ;  not  convulsible,  ii.  299  ;  mutual 
deference,  x.  67  ;  clear  our  minds  of 
egotism,  iv.  29  ;  enrich  us,  viii.  215 ; 
equality  in  all  ages,  ii.  84 ;  intro 
duce  us  to  facts,  xii.  182 ;  fame 
needs  perspective,  145;  none  with 
out  foible,  i.  187;  iii.  217;  make 
great  things,  i.  105  ;  know  not  their 
greatness,  ii.  147  ;  depend  on  heart, 
not  purse,  vii.  112 ;  do  not  hinder 
us,  xii.  82 ;  homage  to,  viii.  205, 
215  ;  make  land  great,  ii.  243 ;  mark 
of,  i.  105 ;  from  middle  classes,  vi. 
246 ;  misunderstood,  ii.  59 ;  lead  to 
nature,  xii.  183 ;  are  near  us,  x.  61 ; 
new,  ii.  340 ;  iii.  106 ;  are  great  oc 
casions,  vii.  84 ;  accept  their  place, 
ii.  49 ;  poverty  their  ornament,  ii. 
240 ;  vii.  112 ;  recall  us  to  princi- 

?»les,  x.  103 ;  absence  of  pretension, 
71 ;  not  producers,  iv.  91 ;  readers, 
viii.  170 ;  search  for,  iv.  9 ;  selfish 
ness,  x.  26 ;  self-reliant,  ii.  55 ;  our 
greater  selves,  i.  106  ;  sincere,  viii. 
217 ;  sportive,  ii.  241  ;  see  that 
thoughts  rule,  viii.  217;  of  our 
times,  i.  253  ;  treatment,  iii.  81 ; 
unique,  ii.  82. 

Great  tasks  not  needed,  vi.  304. 

Great  things  done  in  the  spirit  of 
greatness,  xi.  197. 

Great  wits  and  madness,  viii.  264. 

GREATNESS,  viii.  283-303 ;  none 

without  abandonment,  vii.  173  ;  only 
comparative,  i.  107  ;  needs  not 
costly  culture,  299 ;  easy,  iv.  54 ; 
good  economy,  ii.  199 ;  enlarges  all, 
vi.  184 •,  appeals  to  future,  ii.  CO; 
not  from  following  the  great,  i.  125  ; 
humanity,  viii.  302;  humility,  xii. 
162 ;  live  for,  viii.  321 ;  love  follows, 
ii.  143 ;  measured  by  what  it  can 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


303 


spare,  x.  1C9 ;  regards  not  opinion, 
ii.  246;  and  prudence,  293;  pur 
suit  of,  vi.  148 ;  self-respect  the 
early  form  of,  viii.  280,  291,  296; 
simple,  i.  ICO ;  v.  179 ;  is  in  ten 
dency,  iii.  75 ;  achieved  unawares, 
vi.  249 ;  is  the  perception  that  vir 
tue  is  enough,  ii.  240 ;  feels  no  little 
wants,  vi.  148 ;  not  greatness,  but 
sensibility  to  see  it,  is  wanting,  viii. 
302. 

Greek  fire,  wit  like,  viii.  156. 

Greek  period  in  every  man's  history, 
ii.  28. 

Greek,  power  of  achievement,  x.  264  ; 
art  has  passed  away,  ii.  282,  339  ; 
civilization  in  contrast  with  the 
East,  x.  297  ;  xi.  181  ;  idea  of  death, 
viii.  309;  education,  iv.  127;  gen 
ius,  53  ;  history,  ii.  19,  28 ;  v.  11, 
283 ;  vii.  192  ;  viii.  207  ;  instinct, 
vii.  257 ;  language  and  literature, 
iii.  245 /;  v.  196,  198,  226;  vii.  188; 
manners,  ii.  29  ;  mythology,  34, 
103;  x.  106;  philosophy,  291;  self- 
centred,  viii.  102  ;  perfection  of 
senses,  ii.  28  ;  tragedy,  29 ;  xi.  422 ; 
xii.  262. 

Greenough,  Horatio,  v.  9 ;  quoted, 
vii.  276. 

Grief,  makes  us  idealists,  iii.  52 //  to 
be  lightly  stated,  vi.  252  ;  viii.  233  ; 
xii.  265 /. 

Grout,  Sir  Jenkin,  iii.  141. 

Groves,  i.  347. 

Growth,  i.  193  ;  ii.  259,  298 ;  viii.  330 ; 
xii.  23. 

Grumblers,  vi.  251. 

Guano,  races  that  have  guano  in  their 
destiny,  vi.  21. 

Guess,  fruitful,  i.  70. 

Guests,  ii.  184  ;  vii.  115 ;  viii.  97 ;  we 
are  guests  in  nature,  x.  187 ;  xii. 
268. 

Guinea-trader,  iv.  146. 

Guizot,  Francois  P.  G.,  v.  119;  viii. 
124. 

Gulistan.     See  Saadi. 

Gunning,  Elizabeth  and  Maria,  vi. 
282. 

Guns,  are  not  to  go  in  advance  of  the 
right,  xi.  421. 

Gustavus  Adolphus,  x.  59. 

GUY,  ix.  33  ff. 

Gyges,  ring  of,  x.  25,  126. 

Gymnastics,  of  work,  iii.  244 ;  of  play, 
vi.  137. 


Habit,  iii.  218. 

Hafiz,  quoted,  v.  244 ;  vi.  33,  43,  59, 


223,  258;  viii.  231-248,  273;  ix. 
243/,  246/. 

Half -gods  go,  ix.  85. 

Halfness,  ii.  107 ;  viii.  151. 

Hallam,  Henry,  v.  233 ;  quoted,  viii. 
187. 

HAMATREYA,  ix.  85-37. 

Hampden,  John,  iv.  19. 

Handel,  iii.  222. 

Hands,  xii.  143;  can  execute  nothing 
not  inspired  by  character,  ii.  341 ; 
and  eyes  must  work  together,  vii. 
151  ;  x.  28,  257 ;  xii.  127 ;  instru 
ment  of  instruments,  vii.  151 ;  of 
the  mind,  i.  43 ;  right  to,  earned  by 
use,  227  ;  Saxons  the  hands  of  man 
kind,  v.  77. 

Happiness,  does  not  consist  with  mis 
ery  of  another,  vi.  220;  capacity 
for,  endless,  257 ;  the  highest,  to 
behold  the  beauty  of  another  char 
acter,  i.  324;  x.  219;  does  educa 
tion  increase  happiness  ?  iii.  255 ; 
good  delights  us,  vii.  171,  288  ;  Ha 
fiz  on,  viii.  232  ;  is,  to  fill  the  hour, 
iii.  62 ;  vii.  173 ;  Hume  on,  165  ;  il 
lusion,  vi.  253 ;  not  dependent  on 
persons,  ii.  178 ;  search  for,  illusive, 
vi.  253. 

Happy  is  the  hearing,  unhappy  the 
speaking  man,  ii.  319. 

Harmony  of  man  with  nature,  i.  16 ; 
iii.  19. 

Harness  of  routine,  i.  221. 

HARP,  THE,  ix.  203-207.  See,  also, 
JSolian  Harp. 

Harp,  constellation,  i.  84. 

Harvard  College,  x.  312 ;  xi.  321. 

HARVARD  COMMEMORATION  SPEECH,  xi. 
317-322. 

Haste,  vulgar,  iii.  134 ;  vi.  153,  179. 

Hatred,  the  doctrine  of,  to  be 
preached,  ii.  53 ;  ix.  21. 

Have,  the  coat  of,  vi.  115. 

Haydn,  i.  49. 

Hay-scales,  the  speediest  way  of  de 
ciding  a  vote,  vi.  19. 

Heads,  adapting  conversation  to  shape 
of,  iii.  57  ;  expressiveness,  vii.  123  ; 
viii.  163. 

Headache,  culture  ends  in,  iii.  61. 

Health,  beauty  is,  x.  46 ;  dormant  in 
us,  95 ;  condition  of  eloquence,  vii. 
69 ;  viii.  114 ;  of  memory,  xii.  78  ; 
of  writing,  viii.  43  ;  of  success  in 
general,  i.  23;  iii.  19;  vi.  61,  206, 
249  ;  vii.  280,  288  ;  viii.  298  ;  x.  46  ; 
xii.  78  ;  is  wholeness,  i.  175 ;  the  mor 
al  its  measure,  vi.  208  ;  x.  179  ;  xii. 
57  ;  the  first  muse,  vi.  231  ;  viii.  265  ; 
patriotic,  18  ;  preaches  self-corn- 


304 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


mand,  i.  48  ;  sleep  its  condition,  viii. 
265  ;  should  be  universal,  ii.  218. 

Hearing,  a  wise.  i.  137 ;  ii.  319 ;  vii. 
283. 

Heart,  its  arguments,  vi.  208 ;  ask, 
viii.  216;  fountain  of  beauty,  vii. 
125,  288  ;  lover  of  absolute  good,  iii. 
58  ;  viii.  217,  221 ;  xii.  56  ;  not  to  be 
imprisoned,  ii.  284;  obey,  ix.  84; 
distinction  of  a  royal  nature,  x.  63  ; 
scholar  is  world's,  i.  102  ;  wisdom 
of,  vi.  208  ;  vii.  127,  288 ;  viii.  216, 
327  ;  xi.  211. 

Heat,  source  of  power,  iii.  172;  vii. 
17,  63,  91 ;  viii.  126,  261 ;  ix.  149  f. 

Heaven,  ii.  133;  iii.  185,  262;  vi.  196; 
viii.  327  ;  communion  of  souls,  iv. 
124;  ix.  297;  is  exercise  of  facul 
ties,  ii.  133 ;  xii.  43 ;  man  makes,  i. 
123 ;  v.  230 ;  a  prison,  iii.  37  ;  Swe- 
denborg's  idea,  iv.  136  ;  viii.  311. 

Heavens,  natural,  vii.  164. 

Hebrews,  antiquity,  iv.  129;  genius, 
x.  233  ;  religion,  xii.  96. 

Hecateus,  story  from,  x.  19. 

Hector,  x.  19. 

Heimskringla,  v.  59,  136  ;  viii.  61. 

Helen  of  Argos,  iv.  42. 

Hell,  not  without  extreme  satisfac 
tions,  ii.  296  ;  iv.  126,  132. 

Helmont,  Van,  quoted,  viii.  323. 

Help,  real,  iv.  18. 

"Help,"i.  240. 

Henry  VII.,  anecdote,  viii.  299. 

Henry  VIII.,  quoted,  vi.  77. 

Heraclitus,  quoted,  i.  204;  ii.  304  ;  vi. 
307  ;  viii.  190 ;  x.  25,  99,  303 ;  xi. 
319. 

Herald's  office,  iii.  130. 

Herbert,  Edward,  quoted,  vii.  198 ;  v. 
71 ;  vi.  138. 

Herbert,  George,  ii.  269 ;  viii.  57,  268  ; 
xii.  95 ;  quoted,  i.  19,  72  ;  viii.  87, 
267 ;  x.  16. 

Hercules,  iii.  90. 

Heredity,  v.  49 ;  vi.  16,  157,  169  ;  viii. 
99 ;  x.  37. 

HERI,  CRAS,  HODIE,  ix.  242. 

Hermes,  iii.  50. 

HERMIONE,  ix.  89-92. 

Hermits,  i.  169  ;  vi.  142 ;  vii.  219  ;  x. 
140 ;  xii.  135. 

Herodotus,  quoted,  viii.  308. 

Heroes,  acts  speak,  ii.  151 ;  all  may 
be  made,  vi.  134  ;  ancient  idea  of, 
x.  45 ;  bores,  iv»  31  ;  self-centred, 
vi.  34,  262;  vii.  176;  x.  261;  xi. 
199;  English,  x.  132;  everywhere 
at  home,  vi.  179;  humanity  of,  i. 
268  ;  good-humor,  ii.  240  ;  need  not 
laws,  i.  305;  hold  life  lightly,  iii. 


260  ;  limitations,  ii.  236  ;  line  not 
extinct,  iii.  141 ;  we  make,  77 ; 
masters  of  events,  97,  101 ;  en 
largements  of  the  common  nature, 
i.  107,  160,  305,  327;  iv.  20,  35; 
power,  vi.  269 ;  live  on  resistance, 
242  ;  respect  each  other,  vii.  256 ; 
scholars,  x.  260  ;  self-sacrifice,  vii. 
239 ;  of  gentle  souls,  xi.  109,  320  ; 
give  strength  to  state,  i.  368 ;  rep 
resented  in  a  transition,  ii.  171  ; 
draw  universal  enthusiasm,  viii.  23, 
301  ;  of  the  West,  xi.  416  ;  worship, 
i.  106,  157  ;  iv.  20 ;  viii.  23. 

HEROISM,  ii.  229-248  ;  ix.  231 ;  cu 
mulative,  ii.  12,  60  ;  in  unison  with 
nature,  i.  27  ;  iv.  29 ;  vi.  33 ;  vii. 
128 ;  viii.  294 ;  its  characteristic  is 
persistency,  ii.  245  ;  generous  of  its 
dignity,  246;  never  reasons,  there 
fore  always  right,  236  ;  sportive, 
241. 

Hesiod,  vii.  160  ;  quoted,  iii.  156. 

Hibernation,  vi.  40. 

Hieroglyphic,  i.  10  ;  viii.  66. 

Higher  law,  vi.  201 ;  xi.  215. 

Highways  of  mind,  ii.  38  ;  iii.  232 ;  iv. 
18.  ' 

Hindoos,  fables,  vi.  25 ;  fate,  18 ;  on 
immortality,  viii.  331  ;  maxims,  iv. 
132,  255 ;  x.  59 ;  missionaries  to, 
109;  scriptures,  iv.  50;  vi.  307; 
viii.  20;  xi.  288;  transmigration, 
iv.  94.  See,  also,  India. 

HISTORY,  ii.  7-43 ;  ancient,  is  the 

history  of  to-day,  ii.  15 ;  vii.  167 ;  a 
great  anthem,  xi.  173  ;  is  biography, 
ii.  62,  311 ;  vii.  197  ;  xi.  354  ;  cathe 
dral  music,  vii.  162  ;  none  contents 
us,  ii.  277  ;  every  man's,  worth 
knowjmg,  vii.  287 ;  makes  us  fatal 
ists,  vi.  33 ;  geology  effaces,  viii. 
202 ;  work  of  ideas,  i.  208  ;  intrinsic 
identity,  156;  ii.  19;  iv.  10;  none 
find,  i.  164  ;  less  intention  than  we 
suppose,  ii.  128 ;  only  moral  inter 
ests  us,  xi.  133  ;  language  is,  iii.  26  ; 
is  the  unfolding  of  law,  viii.  212; 
the  great  moments,  ii.  300 ;  myth 
ical  names  overawe  us,  13,  63  ;  nat 
ural,  married  to  human,  i.  33 ;  na 
ture  and  thought  react  in,  vi.  46 ; 
two  parties  in,  i.  255 ;  throws  our 
action  into  perspective,  11 ;  poetry 
nearer  to  truth,  73 ;  vii.  189 ;  truth 
of  present,  unattainable,  xii.  241 ; 
read  actively,  i.  94;  ii.  13;  un 
due  regard  for  reputations,  13,  63 ; 
all  sacred,  278 ;  speculations  of  one 
age  the  history  of  the  following,  iii. 
254;  xi.  355;  its  steps  are  moral 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


305 


generalizations,  x.  181 ;  a  shallow 
tale,  ii.  42 ;  iii.  Ill ;  iv.  196 ;  high 
tides  in,  v.  210 ;  its  use  is  to  give 
value  to  the  present,  vii.  109 ;  vic 
tory  over  necessities,  i.  229 ;  war  its 
subject,  xi.  182. 

Hiving  facts,  etc.,  ii.  214;  vii.  309, 
316 ;  viii.  319. 

HOAR,  SAMUEL,  x.  405-418. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  quoted,  vi.  143 ;  xi. 
227. 

Hodson's  Life,  x.  141. 

Hoe  and  spade,  virtue  in,  i.  100. 

Hogg,  James,  viii.  188. 

HOLIDAYS,  ix.  119;  vii.  161 /;  in 

the  eye,  vi.  173. 

Holiness,  confers  insight,  vi.  207 ;  x. 
207 ;  service  of  the  common  soul, 
xi.  194. 

Holmes,  Oliver  W.,  quoted,  vii.  28. 

Holy  Ghost,  ii.  298;  iv.  251;  ix.  17; 
x.  98. 

Home,  vi.  254,  259 ;  vii.  105,  111,  116, 
127  ;  viii.  104  ;  x.  128. 

Home,  Sir  Everard,  quoted,  iii.  72. 

Homer,  authoritative,  i.  201 ;  Chap 
man's,  vii.  189;  we  are  civil  to, 
viii.  68;  makes  all  men  look  like 
giants,  ii.  333  ;  perfect  Greek,  ix. 
190  ;  humanity  in,  ii.  270  ;  no  limits, 
iii.  43 ;  Odyssey,  vii.  72 ;  one  omen 
best,  x.  19  ;  resources,  iv.  190 ;  will 
be  tin  pan,  viii.  69 ;  universality, 
ii.  33 ;  value,  vii.  188 ;  quoted,  vi. 
197 ;  vii.  171 ;  viii.  36,  277 ;  x.  19, 
45. 

Homoeopathy,  iii.  224. 

Honesty,  cannot  come  to  loss,  ii.  114  ; 
adds  value  to  the  state,  vi.  102. 

Honor,  no  ephemera,  ii.  60  ;  x.  67. 

Hooks  and  eyes,  men  made  of,  vi.  194 ; 
xi.  247. 

Hope  puts  us  in  a  working  mood,  i. 
205,  237,  358  ;  ii.  251,  298  ;  iii.  257  ; 
vi.  252;  viii.  217 /;  ix.  296  ;  x.  136. 

Horizon,  i.  16,  22 ;  iii.  165,  169  ;  the 
eye  makes,  77  ;  vi.  50  ;  walled  in  by, 
253  ;  ix.  195,  246  ;  x.  107. 

HOROSCOPE,  ix.  241 ;  ii.  253. 

Horror-mongers,  x.  160. 

Horse-block,  a  Hercules,  viii.  18. 

Horsed  on  an  idea,  i.  239 ;  vii.  52. 

Horsemanship,  x.  60. 

Horse-power  of  understanding,  viii. 
218. 

Horses,  go  best  with  blinders,  v.  88 ; 
xii.  47  ;  company,  v.  72 ;  country, 
146 ;  eyes,  vi.  171 ;  of  heavens  and 
earth,  i.  232 ;  ii.  244 ;  iii.  25 ;  dis 
putant  neighing  like,  vi.  166  ;  vii. 
214. 


Hospitality,  i.  231 ;  ii.  72, 238 ;  iii.  131 : 
vii.  109,  115 ;  to  thought,  276  ;  to 
character,  iii.  112,  158  ;  iv.  231 ;  vi. 
173, 187,  226,  255. 

Hotels,  vii.  187  ;  viii.  273. 

Hotspur,  vi.  121. 

Hours,  the  ages  instruct  the  hours,  ii. 
10  ;  iv.  176  ;  dance  of,  i.  191 ;  hap 
piness  is  to  fill,  163 ;  iii.  62  ;  vii. 
173  ;  illusions,  168  ;  knots  of,  162  ; 
thief -like  step,  ix.  60 ;  trifles  eat  up 
the  hours,  ii.  213  ;  unlike,  251. 

House,  aims,  vii.  108,  114  /;  archi 
tect,  ii.  81 ;  body,  type  of,  iv.  154 ; 
the  condition  of  civilization,  vii.  25  ; 
for  comfort,  108 ;  x.  335 ;  culture, 
114  /;  dogmatic,  iv.  153 ;  English, 
v.  106,  159,  163  ;  French,  vii.  229 ; 
friends  its  ornament,  ii.  193 ;  vii. 
124  ;  location,  i.  348  ;  we  seek  a  man 
in  the  house,  iii.  131  ;  the  owner's 
master,  131 ;  vii.  158 ;  not  mea 


sured  by  rod  and  chain,  vi.  181 ;  not 
a  museum,  vii.  125;  nature  tyran 
nizes  over,  45 ;  not  for  show,  vi. 
213  ;  vii.  109,  126  ;  sanctuary,  127  ; 
of  spirit,  iv.  121 ;  vi.  14,  272 ;  ix. 
295  ;  property  of  travellers ;  xii.  240  ; 
shows  what  a  man  honestly  desires, 
vii.  108. 

Household  joy,  ii.  205,  214  /;  vii. 
104-128;  x.128. 

Housekeeping,  i.  231  /;  mendicant, 
ii.  75;  tyrannical,  vi.  120;  a  suf 
ficient  accusation  that  it  needs 
wealth,  vii.  108. 

Houstonia,  iii.  166. 

Howell,  James,  quoted,  xii.  86. 

Huckleberries,  white,  xii.  29. 

Hudibras,  v.  223  ;  quoted,  viii.  159. 

Hugo,  Victor,  quoted,  viii.  55. 

Human  nature  symmetrical,  ii.  223, 
260 ;  xii.  152. 

Humanities,  viii.  286. 

Humanity,  of  the  man  of  genius,  viii. 
67,  302  ;  religion  not  to  be  elevated 
above,  xi.  391. 

HUMBLE-BEE,  ix.  39-41. 

Humboldt,  Alexander  von,  vii.  304; 
xi.  54,  332. 

Hume,  David,  v.  232  ;  vii.  165. 

Humility,  i.  122,  155 ;  vi.  218,  222 ; 
vii.  168  /;  viii.  296 ;  x.  95,  121 ;  the 
avenue  to  truth,  179,  188,  200 ;  xi. 
277,  344 ;  xii.  162  /. 

Humor,  viii.  152 ;  a  safeguard,  xi.  377. 
See,  also,  Comic,  Wit. 

Hunger,  walking  hungers,  vi.  199 ;  sole 
belief,  viii.  163,  266;  x.  58. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  xii.  231. 

Hunter,  John,  viii.  13. 


/• 


306 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


Hunter,  iii.  20  ;  viii.  139  /. 

Hurry,  leave  hurry  to  slaves,  iii.  134. 

Hurtful,  will  sink,  vi.  26  ;  xi.  223. 

Hurts,  some  you  have  cured,  vi.  252  ; 
ix.  241. 

Hutchinson,  Lucy,  vii.  258  ;  xi.  339. 

Hydrostatic  paradox,  iii.  265. 

HYMN  AT  ORDINATION  OF  REV.  CHAND 
LER  BOBBINS,  ix.  192 /. 

Hypocrisy  begins  at  the  entrance  of 
a  second  person,  ii.  194. 

I,  use  of,  xii.  182. 

Ice,  skating  on  thin  ice,  ii.  222 ;  walk 
ing  on,  viii.  156. 

Ichor,  iii.  42 ;  vi.  25 ;  viii.  73. 

Ideal,  truer  than  the  actual,  xii.  196  ; 
torments  until  it  finds  expression, 
vii.  308;  fugitive,  viii.  322  ;  jour 
neys  with  us,  iii.  72,  76 ;  philos 
ophy,  i.  55 ;  practical,  xii.  56 ;  ever 
E  resent,  iii.  76  ;  not  opposed  to  real, 
53,  219,  312  ;  ii.  342  ;  iii.  44  ;  rope 
to  hold  men  up  out  of  the  slough, 
viii.  74;  rules,  219;  service  of,  ii. 
342;  state  rests  on,  xi.  331. 

IDEALISM,  i.  52-64  ; Berkeley's,  ii. 

289  ;  in  English  literature,  v.  227 ; 
of  Jesus,  ii.  289 ;  not  to  remain  a 
detached  object,  but  to  be  satisfied 
along  with  other  aims,  xii.  253; 
incompatibility  with  practice,  44; 
does  not  affect  the  stability  of  na 
ture,  i.  53,  66;  transcendentalism 
is,  311 ;  the  young  American  lacks, 
xi.  418 ;  dies  out  of  youth,  i.  326. 

Idealist,  Bacon  an,  v.  227  ;  claims,  iv. 
145 ;  complaint  against,  viii.  71 ;  x. 
266;  duties  of,  viii.  218;  grief 
makes,  iii.  52 ;  and  materialists,  i. 
311, 314 ;  nature  idealist,  viii.  30  ;  in 
politics,  xi.  331 ;  the  practical  men 
are,  x.  256 ;  shrinks  in  practical 
life,  ii.  243;  scholars,  x.  243; 
tyranny  of,  vi.  93 ;  in  society,  viii. 
153. 

Ideas,  all  advancement  is  by,  xi.  413  ; 
illustration  of  the  benefit  of,  iv.  25  ; 
building  on,  iii.  192  ;  cannon  aimed 
by,  xi.  398  ;  make  their  own  chan 
nels,  iv.  13 ;  divine  natures,  i.  61 ; 
iv.  84 ;  no  better  than  dreams,  xi. 
289 ;  generate  enthusiasm,  x.  113  ; 
are  epochs,  xi.  188 ;  are  essences,  iii. 
220;  exorbitant,  i.  271;  are  the 
truth  of  facts,  78;  fool  of,  200; 
vi.  227 ;  x.  143  ;  heaven  of,  ii.  306 ; 
horsed  on,  i.  239;  hostility  of, 
v.  241 ;  impregnable,  vii.  33 ;  indi 
cators  of,  iv.  21 ;  incarnate  them 
selves  in  majorities,  vi.  19 ;  and  ma 


terials,  xi.  191 ;  might  of,  i.  208  /; 
x.  83  ;  rule  the  mind,  as  the  moon 
rules  the  tides,  ii.  304 ;  x.  131  ;  new, 
i.  219  ;  men  of  one,  xii.  466  ;  not  to 
be  taken  from  others,  xi.  205 ;  xii. 
28  ;  Plato's  definition,  iv.  83  ;  none 
premature,  ii.  139  ;  we  are  prisoners 
of,  306  ;  alone  save  races,  xi.  172  ; 
religion  the  practice  of,  i.  62 ;  are 
thought  subversive,  iv.  253  ;  their 
superiority,  145  ;  their  legitimate 
sway,  i.  208,  219 ;  ii.  283 ;  iii.  197 ; 
viii.  2G2 ;  xi.  289 ;  men  and  things, 
x.  89,  258  ;  trust  in,  xi.  190  ;  iii.  203  ; 
iv.  50. 

Identity,  of  man,  i.  84,  93 ;  perception 
of,  ii.  317;  iii.  175 /,  186;  iv.  50, 
103 /,  113,  144;  v.  226;  vi.  297, 
307  ;  vii.  41 ;  viii.  13 ;  x.  14. 

Idiots,  xii.  45. 

Idleness,  deferring  of  hope  the  reason 
of,  iii.  224  ;  ix.  215. 

Idolatry  of  Europe,  ii.  79  ;  of  the  old, 
120 ;  of  friends,  287  ;  of  heroes  and 
saints,  iii.  77;  iv.  23;  x.  116;  of 
opinions,  iii.  97. 

IF,  on  temple  at  Delphi,  viii.  176. 

Illumination,  divine,  i.  217  ;  iii.  72. 

ILLUSIONS,  vi.  291-308  ;  pain  and 

danger  illusory,  vii.  250 ;  duration, 
170 ;  life  made  of,  iii.  53,  83  ;  iv.  170 ; 
vii.  1,  65,  170,  298 ;  viii.  301 ;  ix. 
286 ;  x.  88,  109. 

Imagery,  i.  36 ;  vii.  89 ;  viii.  18,  22, 
24 /. 

IMAGINATION,  POETRY  and,  viii.  7-75; 

in  all  men,  iii.  33  ;  vi.  295 ;  x. 

79  ;  beauty  the  creature  of,  vi.  287  ; 
is  the  mind  being  what  it  sees,  i. 
56  ;  iii.  30  ;  vii.  202-207  ;  fear  comes 
from,  250  ;  genius  is  power  to  affect 
the  imagination,  x.  54  ;  homage  to, 
198 ;  nature  speaks  only  in  soli 
tude,  vi.  149  ;  the  period  of,  x.  141 ; 
allied  to  all  intellectual  power,  iv. 
22  ;  precursor  of  reason,  vii.  204 ;  x. 
233  /;  debt  of  science  to,  viii.  16 ; 
and  senses  cannot  be  gratified  at  the 
same  time,  vi.  287  ;  its  work,  x.  79. 
See  Fancy,  Poet,  Poetry. 

Imbecility,  key  to  the  ages,  i.  268 ;  iv. 
173,  234  ;  vi.  56  ;  viii.  235. 

Imitation,  i.  143,  167  ;  ii.  48,  81 ;  viii. 
179 ;  xi.  416. 

Immensity,  viii.  318. 

Immigration,  i.  350 ;  vi,  21,  108,  261 ; 
vii.  155 ;  xi.  399. 

IMMORTALITY,  viii.  4,  305-333  ; 

arguments  for,  ii.  309  ;  iii.  35,  187 ; 
vi.  227  /,  279  ;  vii.  316 ;  belief  in,  ii. 
187  ;  iv.  173 ;  vi.  227  ;  perception  of, 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


307 


owed  to  books,  vii.  182  ;  Carlyle  on, 
v.  21  ;  gives  lustre  to  death,  iii.  187  ; 
history  gives  no  light  on,  ii.  42  ;  in 
convenience  of,  vii.  302 ;  not  length 
of  life,  but  depth  of  life,  viii.  329  ; 
Plutarch,  x.  295 ;  question  not  high 
est,  vi.  228;  not  to  be  separately 
taught,  ii.  2G6;  who  is  immortal, 
248 ;  vi.  220,  228  ;  viii.  325,  330. 

Imperial  guard  of  virtue,  i.  146. 

Impressions,  what  impresses  me  ought 
to  impress  me,  ii.  48,  137,  311 ;  vi. 
47;  vii.  279,  283/;xii.  39. 

Improvisators,  vii.  71 ;  viii.  227. 

Impulse,  vi.  65. 

IN  MEMORIAM,  ix.  224-227. 

Inaction,  i.  95, 264. 

Incendiary  opinions,  ii.  247. 

Incognito,  advantages  of,  vi.  145. 

Independence,  i.  145,  155  ;  iii.  133. 

India,  moral  sentiment,  i.  126.  See, 
also,  Hindoos. 

Indian  summer,  iii.  163. 

Indians,  American,  characteristics,  xi. 
54 ;  in  church,  184  ;  and  civilization, 
vii.  24 ;  xi.  53  ;  conversion,  viii. 
158;  xi.  mff;  cruelty,  186;  Henry 
on,  viii.  193  ;  heroism,  xi.  62  ;  names, 
i.  287  ;  rule  for  planting,  x.  417 ; 
ruins  of  mankind,  xi.  54  ;  lost  ten 
tribes,  54  ;  trail,  vii.  25 ;  wrongs, 
xi.  65;  xii.  259.  See,  also,  under 
Concord. 

Indifferency,  all  things  preach,  ii.  80; 
iii.  62  ;  iv.  147  ;  vi.  199. 

Indifferentism,  as  bad  as  superstition, 
vi.  199. 

Indirection,  all  goes  by,  vii.  173. 

Individual,  a  momentary  arrest  of  at 
oms  or  powers,  xii.  25. 

Individualism,  i.  25,  87,  112,  114,  142, 
195 ;  ii.  137 ;  iii.  95,  206,  225,  229, 
234,  254  ;  iv.  32,  76  ;  viii.  191,  286  ; 
x.  95,  118,  136,  308  ;  xi.  416  ;  xii.  25, 
46,  49 ;  distemper  of,  vi.  128,  130, 
133 ;  vii.  15,  52  ;  English,  v.  291 ; 
stress  not  to  be  laid  on,  i.  157,  160, 
200. 

Indolence,  iii.  50. 

Industry,  attractive,  x.  329,  331. 

Inequalities  of  condition,  ii.  118 ;  x. 
37. 

Inertia,  the  only  disease,  ii.  297. 

Inevitable,  the,  i.  285. 

Infancy,  ii.  50,  298,  305 ;  vii.  101  ff, 
243  ;  the  perpetual  Messiah,  i.  74. 

Infidelity,  iv.  173  ;  vi.  201. 

Infinite,  the,  i.  186,  190,  282 ;  ii.  126, 
266  ;  iv.  106 ;  viii.  316  ;  the  feeling 
of,  xii.  184/1. 

Infirm  people,  i.  234  ;  vi.  148. 


Influence,  i.  33,  145,  200,  206  ;  iii.  76, 
94,  197 ;  vi.  55 ;  vii.  80,  240 ;  x.  101, 
129. 

Influenza  of  egotism,  vi.  128. 

Innocence,  an  electuary,  x.  204. 

Innovation,  i.  271,  289,  307 ;  v.  109. 

Insanity,  i.  191 ;  iii.  112,  179,  223,  226; 
iv.  30  ;  vi.  132  ;  xii.  46. 

INSCRIPTION  FOR  A  WELL,  ix.  315. 

Insight,  iii.  30  ;  vi.  30  ;  viii.  22  ;  good 
will  makes,  vi.  207  ;  vii.  291 ;  xii. 
57,  196. 

Insolvency  of  mankind,  viii.  321. 

INSPIRATION,   viii.   253-281  ;   xii. 

32 ;  advance,  x.  224 ;  age  of,  not 
past,  i.  142  ;  x.  117  ;  counterfeit, 
iii.  32  ;  every  man  a  receiver  of,  65, 
218,  271  ;  ii.  318  ;  iii.  258  ;  x.  142, 
269 ;  xii.  32,  55 ;  nothing  great  done 
without,  viii.  257  ;  doctrine  lost,  i. 
127 ;  English  idea,  v.  212  ;  no  mat 
ter  how  got,  viii.  257  ;  in  poetry  the 
rule  is  inspiration  or  silence,  73; 
makes  solitude,  i.  169. 

Instinct,  i.  114,  319 ;  ii.  64,  307 ;  viii. 
216 ;  x.  191 ,  xii.  31-34. 

Institutions,  shadows  of  men,  ii.  62,* 
152  ;  iii.  100,  248. 

Insulation,  ii.  204 ;  vii.  15. 

Insults,  iii.  77,  105 ;  vi.  223,  247. 

Insurance,  of  a  just  employment,  vi. 
221. 

Insurrections,  great  men  serve  us  as. 
x.  103. 

Integrity,  i.  265;  ii.  52,  222;  vi.  90, 
181,  263  ;  viii.  329. 

INTELLECT,  ii.  301-323. 

NATURAL  HISTORY  or,  xii.  1-59 ; 

ii.  303  ;  increases  with  our  affec 
tion,  184  ;  viii.  221 ;  is  void  of  affec 
tion,  i.  28 ;  ii.  304  ;  xii.  41 ;  men 
ashamed  of,  x.  252  ;  beatitude  of,  251; 
beauty,  the  object  of,  i.  28 ;  makes 
its  own  boundaries,  xii.  15 ;  charac 
ter  excites,  iii.  103;  confidence  in, 
i.  154  ;  a  consoler,  xii.  271  ;  and 
creeds,  ii.  78  ;  no  crime  to,  iii.  80 ; 
iv.  244  ;  viii.  297  ;  disparaged,  iii. 
85  ;  duties,  i.  178  ;  is  thought  to  kill 
earnestness,  iv.  166  ;  takes  the  earth 
into  training,  vii.  155 ;  conversion 
into  energy,  x.  264 ;  cannot  be  in 
excess,  i.  268 ;  annuls  fate,  vi.  27 ; 
xi.  175 ;  a  fire,  vii.  141 ;  growth  a 
larger  reception,  i.  160;  office  of 
the  age  to  reconcile  intellect  with 
holiness,  210;  ii.  259;  iv.  92,  167; 
vi.  208 ;  viii.  286,  300  ;  x.  97,  179 ; 
xi.  327  ;  xii.  56,  272  ;  its  grasp,  44 ; 
counterpart  of  natural  laws,  i.  60 ; 
viii.  211 ;  x.  177 ;  xii.  5 ;  in  man- 


308 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


ners,  iii.  134  ;  imagination  its  mea 
sure,  37  ;  miraculous,  xi.  172  ;  pri 
mary  to  nature,  i.  188 ;  iv.  G3 ;  the 
true  nectar,  iii.  31  ;  essence  of  age, 
vii.  299  ;  power,  vi.  31 ;  is  recep 
tion,  i.  1GO  ;  ii.  252  ;  iii.  31 ;  x.  289  ; 
royal  proclamation,  xi.  421  ;  schol 
ars  represent,  viii.  28G ;  selfish,  iii. 
137;  its  self-reliance,  ii.  320;  all 
things  serve,  viii.  94  ;  talisman,  xi. 
172 ;  surrendered  to  truth,  viii.  218  ; 
uses  and  not  used,  75. 

Intelligence,  good-will  makes,  viii. 
324 ;  ix.  202. 

Intemperance,  gifts  cannot  raise,  ii. 
219. 

Intenerate,  ii.  96. 

Intention,  i.  192 ;  ii.  128. 

Intercourse,  international,  vii.  155 ; 
social,  215. 

Interference,  iii.  205 ;  x.  189. 

Interpretation,  i.  40. 

Interruptions,  viii.  273. 

Intoxication  as  substitute  for  intel 
lect,  iii.  31. 

Introductions,  iii.  130  ;  v.  104. 

Introversion,  i.  109 ;  iv.  96,  125 ;  xii. 
11. 

Intrusion,  ii.  200,  202 ;  iii.  134. 

Intuition,  i.  126,  321 ;  ii.  64  ;  iv.  93. 

Invention,  i.  184  ;  vi.  22,  47 ;  vii.  151- 
159,  272 ;  viii.  136,  171 ;  x.  173. 

Inventors,  i.  94,  143 ;  iv.  14  ;  vii.  107  ; 
viii.  133,  194 ;  x.  43  ;  xii.  72. 

Investment,  vi.  122 ;  xii.  64. 

Invisible,  i.  190 ;  vi.  196 ;  viii.  23. 

Inward  light,  viii.  293 ;  x.  98. 

lole,  iii.  90. 

Irish,  eloquence,  vii.  70;  "help,"vi. 
78 ;  members  of  Parliament,  v.  119. 

Ii-on,  cinder  in,  vi.  261 ;  metre  of 
civilization,  x.  173. 

Iron  lids  of  reason,  vii.  53 ;  viii.  183. 

Is,  the  fatal,  viii.  34. 

Isocrates,  quoted,  vii.  65,  97,  218. 

Isolation,  of  personality,  ii.  71 ;  iii. 
32,  69,  134 ;  viii.  81 ;  xii.  241 ;  of 
genius,  vi.  114  ;  vii.  12. 

Italicize,  never,  x.  164. 

Italo-mania.  ii.  26,  79;  vi.  252;  vii. 
252. 

Italy,  caution  in  speech,  viii.  200 ;  tal 
ent,  x.  264. 

Iteration,  in  nature,  iv.  104,  113;  in 
poetry,  viii.  50,  55,  65. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  vi.  64 ;  xi.  404. 
Jackson,  Charles  T.,  vi.  142. 
Jacob  and  Laban,  iii.  194. 
Jacob!  quoted,  i.  318  ;  vi.  183. 
Jacobins,  iv.  31 ;  xi.  198. 


Jamblichus,  vii.  193  /;  quoted,  iii. 
18 ;  v.  173. 

James,  Henry,  quoted,  x.  121. 

Jane  Eyre,  vii.  205. 

Janus-faced  friend,  ii.  204. 

Jardin  des  Plautes,  xii.  20. 

Jars,  qualities  potted  in,  vi.  15. 

Jason,  v.  268. 

Jawing,  vii.  76. 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  vi.  64,  154  ;  x.  54. 

Jeffrey,  Francis,  x.  167. 

Jelaleddin,  verses,  ix.  267. 

Jerusalem,  centre  of  earth,  v.  43. 

Jests,  viii.  157.    See,  also,  Jokes. 

Jesus  Christ,  acts  from  thought,  i. 
316  ;  answers,  ii.  266  ;  vii.  223  ;  his 
attraction,  ii.  319  ;  x.  219  ;  has  been 
given  a  position  of  authority,  i.  132  ; 
xi.  22;  on  problem  of  life,  iv.  92; 
character,  iii.  Ill ;  x.  219 ;  claims, 
x.  115 ;  true  commemoration,  xi. 
24  ;  not  dead,  iii.  232  ;  described  as 
a  demigod,  i.  130  ;  ii.  62  ;  divinity, 
i.  128;  x.  99;  xi.  391;  doctrine, 
viii.  329 ;  era  in  history,  x.  219 ; 
exaggeration  of  his  personality,  iii. 
217 ;  face,  ii.  337 ;  as  God,  i.  128 ; 
xi.  383  ;  heavens  and  earth  sympa 
thize  with,  i.  27  ;  a  hero,  x.  219 ; 
his  history  falsified,  ii.  31 ;  x.  219 ; 
his  idealism,  ii.  289  ;  does  not 
preach  immortality,  viii.  330;  his 
life  degraded  by  insulation,  i.  132 ; 
the  blessed  Jew,  ix.  243  ;  a  lover  of 
mankind,  i.  242 ;  knew  worth  of 
man,  129 ;  mediator,  xi.  23 ;  mira 
cles,  i.  76,  128,  131;  x.  192;  xi. 
25,  390  ;  misunderstood,  ii.  34, 
58 ;  mystic  offices,  vi.  200 ;  name 
ploughed  into  history,  i.  126  ;  drew 
upon  nature,  46 ;  the  emphasis  put 
upon  his  personality,  129  ;  ii.  119, 
276  ;  vi.  200  ;  xi.  392  ;  confounded 
with  the  possibility  of  man,  ii.  62 ; 
iii.  228;  iv.  31 ;  prayer,  ii.  276;  xii. 
213  ;  Prometheus,  ii.  34  ;  prophet, 
i.  127  ;  his  republic,  x.  332  ;  quoted 
to  justify  slavery,  xi.  220  ;  symbol 
ism,  15 ;  sympathy  with,  390 ;  his 
teaching  perennial,  ii.  257  ;  serves 
by  holy  thoughts,  i.  131 ;  not  unique, 
vii.  289  ;  xi.  392  ;  speaks  from 
within,  ii.  269 ;  names  the  world,  i. 
131.  See,  also,  Lord's  Supper. 

Jews,  cultus"  declining,  xi.  333 ;  re 
ligion,  xi.  391;  xii.  96;  scriptures, 
see  Bible ;  self-centred,  viii.  102 ; 
sufferance,  vi.  39. 

John,  the  Baptist,  x.  325  ;  xi.  271. 

Johnson,  Edward,  quoted,  xi.  36 /. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  i.  Ill ;   v.  81, 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


309 


233  ;  vii.  223  ;  viii.  287  ;  x.  240,  450  ; 

xii.  203 ;   quoted,  ii.   215 ;   v.   188 ; 

vi.  77,  250  ;  vii.  27,  186 /;  viii.  122 ; 

xii.  77,  150,  164. 
Jokes,  ii.  212;  viii.  96,  151,  153 /,  158, 

164  ff. 
Jonathauization    of    John    Bull,    xii. 

101. 
Jonson,  Ben,  iv.  193  /;  v.  182,  226  ; 

vii.  198,  230,  234;  viii.  39,  57,  279; 

xii.   205,   230;    quoted,  iii.  115;   v. 

231 ;  vi.  155,  285  ;  viii.  41,  47,  55, 

239  ;  x.  283  ;  xi.  403,  407 ;  xii.  196. 
Journal,  keeping,  see  Diaries. 
Journalism,  see  Newspapers. 
Journey,  rule  for,  v.  34. 
Jove,  iii.  12 ;  and  Phoebus,  vii.  176 ;  is 

in  his  reserves,  viii.  206.    See,  also, 

Jupiter. 

Joy,  i.  243 ;  vi.  250,  295. 
Judges,   v.   122;    vi.   76;    in  slavery 

times,  xi.  255. 
Judging,  iv.  62. 
Judgment,  day  of,  every  day,  ii.  92, 

149,  257 ;  iii.  97  ;  iv.  133  ;  viii.  227  ; 

x.  317. 
July,  in  heart,  ix.  240  ;  x.  418  ;  night, 

viii.  213. 
June,  Epicurean  of,  ix.  40 ;   flowers, 

47  ;  glories,  87  ;  rose,  208  ;  walked 

as,  290. 

Junius,  viii.  188. 
Jupiter,  ii.  103 ;  iii.  106,  150  ;  vii.  160. 

See,  also,  Jove. 

Jury,  not  deceived  by  lawyers,  ii.  148. 
Justice,  i.  122;  iii.  63,  95;  ix.  110;  x. 

87,  94,  96,  184 ;  xi.  71,  105,  154,  224, 

288,  424. 

KANSAS  AFFAIRS,  SPEECH  ON,  xi.  239- 

248 ;  xi.  107. 

Kant,  Imrnanuel,  i.  321 ;  ii.  269,  320 // 

vii.  30 ;  x.  94,  310. 
Keats,  John,  viii.  57  ;  xii.  186  ;  quoted, 

iii.  142 ;  x.  179. 
Kemble,  John,  vi.  78. 
Kempis,  Thomas  a,  vii.  208  ;  xii.  94  /. 
Kepler,  Johann,  quoted,  x.  257. 
Kertch,  governor  of,  v.  203. 
Key-note  of  nature,  iv.  135. 
Key,   the    key  to  every  man  is   his 

thought,  ii.  283. 
Kildare,  Earl  of,  viii.  299. 
Kind,  every  one  after  his,  i.  322. 
Kinde,  iv.  168 ;  vii.  164.     ' 
Kindness,  i.  239  ff;  ii.  183,  225 ;  xi. 

193. 

King's  College  Chapel,  vi.  40. 
King,  a  working,  i.  364;   ii.  63;  vii. 

65;  viii.  199,  207 /;  x.  44;  xi.  198; 

tired  of  kings,  ix.  174. 


Kitchen  clock,  more  convenient  than 
sidereal  time,  v.  56. 

Knapsack  of  custom,  iii.  164. 

Knaves,  carry  forward  the  just  cause, 
iv.  176. 

Knights,  true,  x.  57,  59. 

Knower,  the,  iii.  12. 

Knowing,  contented  with,  iii.  85  ;  the 
step  from  knowing  to  doing,  vi.  74  ; 
antidote  to  fear,  vii.  247 ;  measure 
of  man,  xii.  9 ;  the  world,  ii.  210 ; 
vi.  141. 

Knowledge,  a  canine  appetite  for,  iii. 
256 ;  buckets  of,  vi.  257 ;  of  char 
acter,  ii.  267  ;  child's  absorption  of, 
vii.  103 ;  communication  of,  215 ; 
viii.  215 ;  x.  147  ;  diffusion  of,  the 
measure  of  culture,  vii.  28;  fatal 
to  earnestness,  iv.  166;  the  en- 
courager,  vii.  248;  evening,  i.  76; 
xii.  67  ;  growth  unconscious,  ii.  307  ; 
iv.  152;  vii.  103;  immortal,  viii. 
323;  cannot  be  hid,  xi.  389;  loved 
for  itself,  vii.  277 ;  morning,  i.  76 ; 
xii.  67  ;  is  power,  vii.  303 ;  xii.  57 ; 
runs  to  the  inan,  viii.  255  ;  a  sea,  vi. 
257 ;  not  to  be  secondary,  i.  143  ; 
the  hope  to  get  knowledge  by  short 
cuts,  vii.  273  ;  its  value  depends  on 
skill  to  use  it,  xii.  64;  is  amassed 
thought  of  many,  viii.  190 ;  use  the 
condition  of,  i.  211 ;  vii.  248 ;  xii. 
30  ;  wealth  the  sign  of,  ii.  110  ;  yes 
terday's,  xii.  64. 

Knox,  Robert,  on  races,  v.  47  ;  vi.  21. 

Koran,  quoted,  iv.  92,  207,  215;  vii. 
66 ;  viii.  96. 

Kosmos,  i.  21 ;  vii.  165 ;  xii.  116. 

KOSSUTH,  ADDRESS  TO,  xi.  357  ;  

vi.  202  ;  x.  311. 

Krishna,  quoted,  iv.  50,  164. 

Labor,  alternation  of,  is  rest,  viii.  145 ; 
attractive  and  associated,  iv.  151 ; 
benefits,  iii.  244 ;  at  Brook  Farm, 
x.  114,  344  ;  brute,  vi.  85  ;  cheapest 
is  dearest,  ii.  110 ;  Nature's  coin, 
118,  214 ;  contempt  for,  vi.  91 ;  cul 
tivated,  98  ;  viii.  208 ;  the  interests 
of  dead  and  living,  iv.  214;  digni 
fied,  i.  100,  173;  ii.  135;  xi.  278; 
division  of,  i.  224 ;  iv.  53 ;  v.  162 ; 
vii.  26,  113 ;  duty  of  all,  viii.  294 ; 
xi.  423  ;  emblematic,  viii.  294  ;  God's 
education  in  the  laws  of  the  world, 
i.  229 ;  iii.  220 ;  vi.  106 ;  genius  is 
power  of,  i.  328 ;  government  is  for 
its  protection,  xi.  278  ;  needful  gym 
nastics,  i.  230;  iii.  244;  x.  233; 
habits,  xii.  259;  importance,  xi. 
423;  key  to  world's  treasures,  xii. 


310 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


105  ;  man  coins  himself  into,  x.  76  ; 
xi.  278;  power  of,  xii.  105;  the 
scholar's,  viii.  294;  slave-holder's 
view  of,  xi.  277 ;  manual  labor  an 
tagonistic  to  thought,  i.  230. 

Laborer,  not  to  be  sacrificed  to  results 
of  labor,  i.  184. 

Lamb,  Charles,  quoted,  viii.  189. 

Land,  its  sanative  influences,  i.  345 ; 
appetite  for,  vii.  161  ;  English  te 
nacity,  v.  37-46,  59,  230;  owner 
ship,  vi.  113;  vii.  133,  135;  ix.  36. 

LANDOR,  WALTER  SAVAGE,  criticism, 

xii.  201-212 ;  visit  to,  v.  10-13  ;  

on  behavior,  vi.  179 ;  merit,  xii. 
188 ;  on  Wordsworth,  v.  243,  281  ; 
quoted,  i.  330 ;  ii.  171 ;  vii.  124  ;  xii. 
210. 

Landscape,  armory  of  powers,  ix.  125 ; 
beauty,  ii.  327  ;  iii.  169 ;  benefit,  ix. 
214 ;  breath,  iv.  137  ;  compensation, 
vii.  280;  cow's  view  of,  viii.  30; 
deceptive,  iii.  171,  184  ;  difference 
of,  in  the  observer,  170  ;  in  dreams, 
x.  11 ;  the  eye  makes,  i.  21 ;  iii.  170 ; 
xi.  367  ;  face  of  God,  i.  69 ;  horizon 
in,  iii.  169 ;  man,  a  compacter  land 
scape,  ii.  328  ;  reflects  our  moods,  i. 
17,  204 ;  owned  by  no  one,  14,  71 ; 
iii.  23  ;  trees,  the  hospitality  of,  i. 
250  ;  vanity,  24 ;  needs  water,  viii. 
48. 

Landscape  gardening,  i.  349. 

LANGUAGE,  i.  31-41 ;  of  angels, 

ii.  323 ;  the  building  of,  i.  32  ;  viii. 
15,  135,  189  /;  demigod,  vii.  47  ;  of 
eloquence,  viii.  121 ;  fossil  poetry, 
iii.  26 ;  history  in,  26 ;  imagery, 
i.  36 ;  viii.  22  ;  a  monument,  iii.  220 ; 
nature  supplies,  i.  35  ;  vi.  288  ;  viii. 
15 ;  played  with,  i.  171 ;  viii.  161 ; 
straining  of,  x.  160  ;  of  street,  viii. 
121;  xii.  24,  72,  150,  157;  finest 
tool,  vii.  156;  is  use  of  things  as 
symbols,  i.  31 ;  iii.  37 ;  xii.  5 ;  ve 
racity,  iii.  220 ;  always  wise,  x.  125. 

Lannes,  Marshal,  vi.  134. 

Lantern  of  the  mind,  ii.  308,  310. 

Laocoon,  vii.  53. 

Large  interests  generate  nobility  of 
thought,  x.  65. 

Lars  and  Lemurs,  v.  18  ;  x.  8. 

Las  Casas,  quoted,  ii.  85  ;  iv.  226. 

LAST  FAREWELL,  ix.  222 /. 

Last  judgment.  See  Judgment,  day 
of.  M.  Angelo's,  xii.  129. 

Latin  poetry,  i.  162  ;  iii.  245 /;  iv.  269  ; 
v.  198,  224,  226. 

Laughter,  vi.  175 ;  viii.  86,  96,  151  /, 
156 /,  166. 

Lavater,  x.  318. 


Law,  the  higher,  xi.  215. 

Laws,  above,  are  sisters  to  those  be 
low,  iv.  81  ;  viii.  211 ;  alive  and 
beautiful,  iii.  268  ;  begirt  with,  ii. 
129;  beneficent  necessity,  iii.  203; 
our  consolers,  vi.  230  ;  Hindoo  defi 
nition,  211 ;  divine,  i.  121 ;  iii.  268  ; 
English,  v.  159 ;  must  be  written 
on  ethical  principles,  x.  112 ;  facts 
preexist  as,  ii.  9,  16;  the  world  a 
fagot  of,  x.  86 ;  growth,  iv.  191 ; 
make  no  difference  to  the  hero,  i. 
305  //  history  the  unfolding  of,  viii. 
212 ;  built  on  ideas,  iii.  192 ;  ideal, 
viii.  35 ;  identity,  13 ;  immoral  are 
void,  xi.  165,  214;  an  extension  of 
man,  i.  358;  ii.  11,  99  ;  iii.  191,193, 
203 ;  viii.  44  ;  of  matter  and  of 
mind  correspond,  vi.  209  //  viii.  13, 
21,  211,  220 ;  are  memoranda,  iii. 
192  ;  mind  carries,  viii.  212  ;  of  na 
ture,  ii.  215,  222,  234  ;  iii.  174  ;  vi. 
104  ;  vii.  127  ;  viii.  209  ;  civil,  not 
to  be  obeyed  too  well,  iii.  199,  265  ; 
vi.  305 ;  viii.  45  ;  x.  189  ;  omnipres 
ent,  vi.  30,  104;  to  one's  self,  ii. 
74;  perception  of,  is  religion,  vii. 
128 ;  viii.  325  ;  x.  188  ;  permanence, 
i.  53  ;  x.  188 ;  the  dream  of  poets, 
vii.  218 ;  viii.  36  ;  of  repression, 
vi.  23 ;  not  to  be  too  much  rev 
erenced,  iii.  265;  none  sacred  but 
that  of  our  nature,  ii.  52 ;  their 
statement  is  common-sense,  vii.  87  ; 
universal,  i.  122,  124 ;  ii.  221 ;  iii. 
96  ;  vi.  51,  84  ;  ix.  73  ;  useless,  xi. 
221 ;  various  readings,  213 ;  of  the 
soul,  self-enforced,  i.  122,  139;  and 
virtue,  vi.  226 ;  world  saturated 
with,  iv.  174. 

LAWS,  SPIRITUAL,  ii.  123-157. 

Lawgivers,  vii.  223. 

Layard,  Austen  H.,  quoted,  vi.  252  ; 
viii.  227. 

Leaders,  ii.  330 ;  iv.  24  ;  vi.  285 ;  vii. 
240,  245  ;  x.  51, 101. 

Learning,  i.  211 ;  ii.  139;  x.  244. 

Leasts,  nature  in,  iv.  102,  110;  vii. 
168. 

Leave  all,  receive  more,  ii.  320. 

Legion  of  Honor,  iii.  221 ;  x.  61. 

Leibnitz,  quoted,  vii.  152 ;  x.  132. 

Lenses,  we  are,  iii.  54,  77  ;  iv.  11. 

Leroux,  Paul,  vi.  201. 

LETTERS,  ix.  188;  ii.  184,  201, 

222;  vii.  26;  inspiration  in  the 
writing  of,  viii.  266  ;  ix.  290. 

Letters,  men  of  letters  wary,  vii.  235. 

Level,  difference  of,  needed  for  com 
munication,  iv.  35. 

Liberalism.    See  under  Religion. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


311 


Liberty,  i.  357;  iii.  203;  vi.  10,  27; 
viii.  219,  235 ;  index  of  general  pro 
gress,  xi.  216,  219,  222  W,  229,  293, 
361 ;  wild  liberty  breeds  iron  con 
science,  vi.  65. 

Lichens,  ii.  42 ;  vi.  83. 

Lies,  i.  123,  318 ;  ii.  72,  223 ;  iii.  264 ; 
iv.  82,  87  ;  x.  167  ;  xi.  192. 

LIFE,  FEAGMENTS  ON,  ix.  287-298 ; 

amount,  vi.  62  ;  not  to  be  anato 
mized,  vii.  172  ;  is  the  angle  of  vis 
ion,  xii.  9 ;  art  of,  will  not  be  ex 
posed,  iii.  70 ;  a  bias  to  some  pur 
suit  the  high  prize  of,  vi.  253  ;  not 
to  be  cheap,  235 ;  conditions,  ii.  102  ; 
is  growing  costly,  xi.  415 ;  crisis 
of,  vii.  120  ;  not  critical  but  sturdy, 
ii.  226 ;  ix.  31 ;  cumulative,  vii. 
302,  307 ;  not  long  but  deep  is 
what  we  want,  i.  330  ;  iii.  62 ;  vii. 
170 ;  x.  261 ;  each  sees  his  own  de 
faced,  ii.  163 ;  a  scale  of  degrees, 
iv.  24  ;  is  not  dialectics,  iii.  61,  67, 
226 ;  our  dictionary,  i.  98  ;  a  suc 
cession  of  dreams,  vi.  305;  x.  25; 
might  be  easier,  ii.  128  ;  vi.  260 ;  an 
ecstasy,  v.  44,  295 ;  made  of  two 
elements,  power  and  form,  love  and 
knowledge,  iii.  67;  vii.  282;  em 
bryo,  viii.  322;  its  end  is  that 
man  shall  take  up  the  universe 
into  himself,  x.  131 ;  epochs,  ii.  152  ; 
an  expectation,  iii.  72 ;  an  experi 
ment,  i.  171 ;  vi.  297  ;  viii.  89  ;  ex 
presses,  i.  10,  171 ;  vi.  163  ;  external 
and  inner,  vii.  292  ;  is  advertisement 
of  faculty,  iii.  75  ;  festival  only  to 
the  wise,  ii.  234 ;  not  to  be  carried 
on  except  by  fidelity,  x.  170;  is 
freedom,  vi.  42 ;  a  gale  of  warring 
elements,  vii.  165 ;  a  game,  i.  121 ; 
iii.  249  ;  its  grandeur  in  spite  of  us, 
viii.  75  ;  should  be  made  happier,  vi. 
252,  260;  headlong,  iii.  110;  hid 
den,  vi.  304 ;  must  be  lived  on 
higher  plane,  iii.  256  ;  a  ring  of  illu 
sions,  x.  88  ;  is  not  intellectual  tast 
ing,  ii.  226 ;  iii.  61 ;  the  literary,  xii. 
206 ;  lords  of,  iii.  47  ;  less  loved,  i. 
260  ;  love  of,  the  healthy  state,  viii. 
314,  320 ;  lyric  or  epic,  ii.  340 ; 
magical,  vii.  172  ;  manners  aim  to 
facilitate,  iii.  124 ;  a  masquerade, 
vi.  296,  301 ;  mean,  i.  217 ;  ii.  243  ; 
how  did  we  find  out  that  it  is  mean  ? 
251 ;  the  measure  of,  vii.  171 ;  has 
no  memory,  iii.  72;  a  miracle,  i. 
128  ;  iii.  72  ;  calendared  by  moments, 
vii.  162;  a  flux  of  moods,  i.  332; 
iii.  53,  73 ;  a  museum,  i.  171 ;  musi 
cal,  vi.  15;  vii.  172;  new  ways  of, 


iii.  229 ;  narrow,  vi.  131 ;  a  pageant, 
i.  254  ;  incessant  parturition,  xii. 
16 ;  the  pitching  of  a  penny,  iv. 
143;  pervasive,  i.  67;  its  pleasure 
is  what  we  give  it,  vi.  44 ;  its  value 
lies  in  its  inscrutable  possibilities,  i. 
258  ;  iii.  57 ;  vi.  249 ;  a  search  for 
power,  62  ;  vi.  55 ;  a  poor  preten 
sion,  iii.  218 ;  not  stationary,  ii. 
117  ;  iii.  75 ;  quarry,  i.  99 ;  the  con 
dition  of  release  from,  vi.  228 ;  its 
results  incalculable,  iii.  71 ;  its  rich 
ness,  x.  82,  191 ;  a  riddle,  vi.  297  ; 
the  true  romance,  i.  171 ;  iii.  270 ; 
vi.  299;  no  rules  of,  235;  secret, 
iii.  62 ;  shortness  of,  makes  no  dif 
ference,  63 ;  x.  223 ;  spiritual,  i. 
319;  a  surface  affair,  vii.  279;  a 
series  of  surprises,  ii.  298;  iii.  69; 
symbolic,  x.  131  ;  a  tent  for  the 
night,  iii.  67  ;  the  terror  of,  vi.  11 ; 
no  reconciliation  of  theory  and  prac 
tice,  iv.  147,  170;  xii.  51;  tragi 
comedy,  x.  128;  transits,  vii.  173; 
seeming  trifles  cover  capital  facts, 
iii.  50  ;  vi.  304  ;  tricks,  iii.  60 ;  trou 
bles,  viii.  41 ;  unity,  iii.  79 ;  value, 
64 ;  x.  97  :  visionary,  iii.  84. 

Light,  i.  21,  311 ;  ii.  79 ;  vii.  279 ;  viii. 
300. 

Lightning,  painting  the  lightning  with 
charcoal,  iii.  103;  air  would  rot 
without,  xii.  49. 

Lightning-rod,  the  best,  one's  own 
spine,  vi.  221. 

Like  draws  to  like,  ii.  293. 

Like,  use  of  word,  viii.  17. 

Lime  in  their  bones  holds  them  to 
gether,  vi.  199. 

Limitation  the  only  sin,  ii.  287. 

LIMITS,  ix.  314. 

LINCOLN,  ABRAHAM,  xi.  305-315  ;  

viii.  122,  301. 

Linnaeus,  vii.  198,  268,  310 ;  xii.  90 ; 
quoted,  iv.  102. 

Literalists,  iv.  117 ;  vi.  135  ;  x.  225. 

LITERARY  ETHICS,  i.  149-180. 

Literary  genius,  iii.  103 ;  xii.  206. 

Literary  men,  i.  170,  231  ;  iv.  144, 
256 ;  v.  8 ;  x.  249 ;  xi.  227. 

Literary  reputation,  ii.  146,  288. 

Literary  work,  viii.  273. 

LITERATURE,  MODERN,  THOUGHTS  ON, 
xii.  177-201. 

American,  xii.  260 ;  ancient,  ii. 

29 ;  biography  of  man,  33 ;  bor 
rowing  in,  iv.  189  ;  critical  ten 
dency,  x.  310;  a  decalogue,  260; 
eavesdropping,  viii.  179 ;  the  effort 
of  man  to  indemnify  himself  for  the 
wrongs  of  his  condition,  xii.  205; 


312 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


English,  see  English  literature  ;  his 
tory  the  sum  of  few  ideas,  iii.  51 ; 
imaginative,  appreciation  of,  vi.  157; 
immortality,  iii.  37  ;  a  point  outside 
of  present  life,  ii.  291 ;  love  of,  viii. 
120  ;  nature  not  found  in,  66 ;  debt 
to  past,  171 ;  pedantry,  161 ;  purest 
pleasure,  xii.  205  ;  of  the  poor,  i. 
110 ;  praise,  viii.  170 ;  reason  of, 
doubted,  iii.  67 ;  sanction,  xii.  205 ; 
sinful,  i.  210 ;  to  be  learned  in  the 
street,  vii.  16 ;  subjective,  iii.  77 ; 
support,  xi.  403  ;  use,  ii.  291 ;  val 
ues,  xii.  177 ;  variety,  178 ;  word- 
catching,  ii.  272  ;  not  yet  written,  i. 
162. 

Liturgies,  iv.  191 ;  v.  215 ;  viii.  173. 

Liver,  religion  in  the,  iii.  55. 

Living,  by  desire  to  live,  viii.  327; 
earning  a,  vi.  85;  modes  of,  not 
agreeable  to  the  imagination,  i.  258  ; 
with  others,  iii.  109;  vii.  16;  x. 
346  ;  solitary,  i.  322. 

Load,  lift  lightest,  vi.  231. 

Locality,  excitant  of  the  muse,  viii. 
275 ;  xii.  86. 

Locomotives,  vi.  20. 

Logic  necessary  but  must  not  be 
spoken,  ii.  307 ;  v.  80  /;  viii.  16, 
26. 

Logs,  ii.  214  ;  Walden,  viii.  266. 

LONDON  TIMES,  v.  247-258. 

Loquacity,  vii.  63  ;  viii.  73. 

Lord,  a  good  lord  must  be  first  a  good 
animal,  iii.  121. 

Lord's  Prayer,  iv.  191 ;  xii.  213,  263. 

LORD'S  SUPPER,  xi.  7-29 ;  i.  138. 

Lords  of  life,  iii.  47  ;  ix.  228. 

Loss,  none  in  nature,  x.  73. 

Lot  of  life,  ii.  86. 

Lottery  prize,  vi.  115. 

Louis  XIV.,  i.  193. 

LOVE,  ii.  159-179;  ix.  92-105,  242; 
abandonment,  i.  206 ;  arch-ab 
olitionist,  xi.  263 ;  afar,  is  spite  at 
home,  ii.  53;  the  affirmative  of 
affirmatives,  vii.  291  ;  xii.  56 ;  as 
pires  to  a  higher  object,  i.  207  ;  be 
lieving,  ii.  132;  blind  because  he 
does  not  see  what  he  does  not  like, 
225 ;  vi.  274 ;  ix.  99  ;  remedy  for 
blunders,  vi.  208 ;  village  boys  and 
girls,  ii.  164 ;  ever  enlarges  its  cir 
cles,  174 ;  made  a  commodity,  196 ; 
concentrates,  330 ;  court  and  parlia 
ment  of,  162 ;  basis  of  courtesy,  iii. 
139,  143,  148  ;  crimes  from,  79 ;  cu 
riosity  about,  vii.  284;  day  dark 
without,  ix.  245 ;  teaching,  ii.  40 ; 
debt  to,  165;  desire,  i.  324;  ii.  72; 
disappointed,  iii.  185;  disruption, 


ii.  176 ;  dream,  174 ;  ebb  and  flow, 
187 ;  enchantment,  161 ;  enlarges 
mind,  vii.  291 ;  enthusiasm,  i.  206 ; 
expands  powers,  ii.  169 ;  viii.  217 ; 
few  capable  of,  xii.  266  ;  and  friend 
ship,  192  ;  iii.  109  ;  vii.  125 ;  genius 
is  love  impersonal,  i.  207 ;  growth, 
ii.  174  ff;  alone  makes  happy,  i. 
207  ;  is  in  hope  and  not  in  history, 
ii.  163  ;  humility,  xi.  344 ;  illusion, 
vi.  302;  makes  immortal,  ii.  248; 
impersonal,  174;  impressionability, 
vii.  285  ;  inexhaustible,  iii.  101 ;  in 
sight,  i.  207  ;  mathematically  just, 
ii.  112;  low,  iv.  124;  madness,  vi. 
44 ;  new  meanings,  iii.  148 ;  and 
mind,  vi.  208  ;  momentary,  iv.  123 /; 
and  nature,  iii.  233;  nobility,  ix. 
105;  xi.  345;  never  outgrown,  i. 
125 ;  overstaying  its  moment,  ix. 
21 ;  makes  what  it  loves  its  own,  iii. 
158  ;  panacea  of  nature,  i.  239 ;  gives 
perception,  vii.  291 ;  deification  of 
persons,  ii.  165 ;  profane,  xi.  344 ; 
proofs,  345;  against  property,  iii. 
249 ;  purifies  itself,  ii.  173 ;  we  can 
receive  from,  iii.  156 ;  redeemer,  vi. 
208 ;  remedy  for  ills,  i.  239,  241  ; 
renewing  principle,  iii.  249  ;  science 
learned  in,  ii.  343;  teaches  self- 
knowledge,  40  ;  not  won  by  services, 
iii.  159;  sexual,  iv.  69;  sharp-sighted, 
vi.  275 ;  makes  all  things  alive  and 
significant,  ii.  168  ;  as  basis  of  state, 
iii.  209 ff;  temporary,  ii.  176;  tent, 
xi.  344 ;  has  a  speedy  term,  iii.  78 ; 
transcends  object,  ii.  206 ;  trans 
forms,  176;  vi.  44;  and  truth,  ii. 
321;  universal,  183;  vii.  285;  un 
requited,  ii.  206  ;  wisdom,  i.  206  ;  iv. 
209;  work,  ii.  161,  166;  rebuilds 
world,  i.  241 ;  ii.  168 ;  reflection  of 
worth,  203. 

Love,  if  I,  ii.  171. 

Lover,  all  love  a  lover,  ii.  164;  all 
should  be  lovers,  i.  241 ;  communi 
cations,  vii.  286 ;  described,  ii.  168 ; 
eyes  and  ears,  vii.  285 ;  sees  no  re 
semblances  in  his  mistress,  ii.  170  ; 
forgiving  too  much,  iii.  134  ;  bide  at 
home,  vi.  232;  marriage,  iii.  179; 
of  men,  xii.  57  ;  nation  of  lovers,  xi. 
195;  never  old,  vii.  316;  has  more 
and  finer  senses,  285  ;  sonnets,  viii. 
15 ;  strangeness,  iii.  134 ;  like  waves, 
ix.  97 ;  what  is  loved,  vi.  302  ;  worlds 
of,  ix.  135 ;  worship,  ii.  187. 

Lovejoy,  Elijah  P.,  ii.  247. 

Lovely,  feeble  souls  do  not  wish  to  be 
lovely  but  to  be  loved,  iii.  96. 

Lowell  mills,  iii.  21. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


313 


Lowliness,  x.  188 ;  xi.  344. 
Loyalty,  ii.  63;  v.  179;  vi.  195 /. 
Lubricity,  ii.  209 ;  iii.  53 ;  xi.  403. 
Lucian  quoted,  x.  17. 
Luck,  i.  183 ;  ii.  222 ;  v.  88 ;  vi.  210 ; 

x.  20 /. 

Lucretius,  vii.  168  ;  quoted,  iv.  110. 
Lustres,  ii.  205 ;  reading  for  the,  iii. 

222. 
Luther,  Martin,  ii.  33;   vii.  93,  223; 

viii.  9,  287 ;   x.  196 ;    xi.   271,   368, 

418,  420 ;  quoted,  iv.  147,  251 ;  vii. 

79 ;  viii.  92 ;  xii.  148. 
Luxury,  i.  231 ;  v.  158. 
Lyceum,  xii.  97. 
Lyncseus,  iii.  25. 
Lynch  law,  iii.  203. 
Lyric  poets,  iii.  14,  32. 
Lyrical  glances,  viii.  257. 

Macaulay,  Thomas  B.,  v.  234  //  248, 
277. 

Machiavelli  quoted,  viii.  19. 

Machinery,  ii.  84  /;  v.  102,  153  ff, 
161  ff;  vi.  81,  89;  aggressive,  vii. 
157  /;  viii.  135  f;  xii.  63 ;  of  soci 
ety,  i.  300 ;  ii.  130. 

Madness  and  genius,  viii.  264 ;  of 
love,  vi.  44. 

Magic,  ii.  37  ;  iii.  36,  70,  94, 108,  224  ; 
vi.  99,  269,  302 ;  xii.  233. 

Magna  Charta,  v.  87,  285,  291;  vi. 
241 ;  viii.  204. 

Magnanimity,  iii.  157,  260 ;  x.  65. 

Magnetic  boat,  ii.  343. 

Magnetism,  ii.  94;  viii.  14;  personal, 
i.  206 ;  ii.  64,  127 ;  iii.  90,  218  ;  vi. 
44,  55,  269 ;  vii.  19,  287  ;  viii.  301. 

animal.    See  Mesmerism. 

Mahomet  quoted,  ii.  229;  vi.  229; 
viii.  96,  326 ;  x.  172 ;  xi.  348. 

Maia,  vii.  165. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  story  of,  viii. 
93. 

Majestic  men,  iii.  107. 

Majorities,  vi.  19,  236. 

Maker,  and  not  the  made,  x.  453  ;  xii. 
42. 

Malaga  of  praise,  ix.  116. 

Malays,  viii.  205 ;  x.  13 ;  xi.  197. 

Malefactors,  vi.  236. 

Malpighi,  doctrine  of  leasts,  iv.  101, 
110. 

Malthus,  doctrine,  vii.  145 /,  156. 

Mammoth  Cave,  vi.  293 ;  viii.  144. 

Man,  aboriginal,  viii.  256 ;  of  action, 
iv.  144 ;  is  all,  i.  113 ;  the  proper 
object  of  plastic  art,  xii.  121 ;  ani 
mates  what  he  sees  and  sees  only 
what  he  animates,  iii.  95 ;  apostro 
phe  to,  i.  196 ;  ashamed  of  self ,  140 ; 


beast-like,  vii.  260 ;  benefactor,  i. 
236;  not  born,  187;  centre  of  be 
ing,  33  ;  iv.  15  ;  channel  of  heaven 
to  earth,  i.  200 ;  cheap,  327 ;  com 
pensation  in  gifts,  ii.  95 ;  made  for 
conflict,  xii.  55;  difference  of  men 
is  in  their  principle  of  associa 
tion,  ii.  17;  divided  into  men,  i.  84 ; 
not  domesticated  in  the  planet,  iii. 
66 ;  elusive,  131 ;  encyclopaedia  of 
facts,  ii.  10 ;  farmer,  instead  of  man 
farming,  i.  85;  half -finished,  vi. 
158;  modified  fish,  xii.  20;  Fou 
rier's  scheme  for  composing  him,  x. 
330;  a  fraction,  i.  223;  fruit  of 
ages,  196;  rests  on  the  bosom  of 
God,  68,  186  ;  a  god  in  ruins, 
74;  growth,  ii.  287;  enters  into 
God,  viii.  330;  should  make  life 
and  nature  happier,  vii.  289;  Her 
bert's  poem  on,  i.  72;  each  a  hint 
of,  iii.  215;  explicable  only  by  his 
history,  ii.  9 ;  vii.  287 ;  great  men 
exalt  the  idea  of,  xii.  152 ;  a  golden 
impossibility,  iii.  68,  70;  inventor, 
v.  161 ;  the  only  joker  in  nature, 
viii.  151  ;  is  a  kingdom,  xi.  198 ;  a 
compacter  landscape,  ii.  328 ;  con 
necting  link  in  nature,  i.  197;  vi. 
27;  a  machine,  81 ;  nature  economi 
cal  in  making  him,  iv.  95 ;  the 
masses,  i.  106 ;  power  over  matter, 
vi.  46,  89 ;  measure  of,  ii.  61 ;  vi. 
182;  vii.  159;  x.  52;  xi.  180;  xii. 
9 ;  and  men,  i.  84, 107  ;  vii.  15 ;  viii. 
209 ;  metamorphosed  into  things,  i. 
85;  every  man  a  new  method,  xii. 
27  ;  microcosm,  i.  72 ;  iv.  84 ;  viii. 
27  ;  Milton's  idea  of,  xii.  152 ;  re 
lation  to  nature,  i.  16,  19,  69,  72, 
75,  80,  111,  187,  197,  299;  iii.  167, 
171,  176;  iv.  15,  17;  vi.  89,  229, 
269 ;  vii.  46,  127,  281 ;  viii.  14,  212  ; 
x.  75 ;  xi.  226,  388,  423  ;  xii.  26 ; 
nature's  self  -  expression,  ii.  328  ; 
each  needed,  vi.  239 ;  the  only  ob 
ject  that  really  interests  us,  271  ; 
one,  i.  84 ;  xi.  173 ;  organized  jus 
tice,  iv.  116 ;  action  his  ornament, 
i.  173;  palace  of  sight  and  sound, 
196 ;  pendant  to  events,  iii.  90 ; 
physician's  view  of,  vi.  134  ;  given 
a  good  light,  like  a  picture,  187  ; 
great,  falls  into  place,  iv.  13 ;  a 
plant,  i.  16,  299;  iv.  152;  xii.  22; 
unbounded  possibility,  i.  68  ;  power, 
x.  75 ;  should  live  in  the  present,  ii. 
67;  pretension,  iii.  100;  vi.  144; 
principle,  i.  304 ;  xi.  199  ;  lives  in 
pulses,  ii.  254 ;  a  quotation,  iv.  44 ; 
redeemer,  i.  251 ;  bundle  of  rela- 


314 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


tions,  ii.  39 ;  representative,  iii. 
215 ;  v.  161  ;  brings  revolution,  i. 
141 ;  self-subsistency,  xi.  199  ;  ser 
vant,  i.  73  ;  of  social  earth,  ix.  97 ; 
infinite  soul,  i.  134 ;  a  stream  of  hid 
den  source,  ii.  252  ;  never  symmet 
rical,  iii.  216;  his  characteristic  is 
teachableness,  xi.  126  ;  facade  of 
temple,  ii.  254 ;  thunderbolt,  vi. 
269 ;  each  obeys  some  thought,  ii. 
283;  the  timely,  iii.  40 ;  vi.  43;  a 
true  man  belongs  to  no  time  or 
place,  ii.  61 ;  better  than  a  town, 
87 ;  xii.  23  ;  unity,  i.  106  ;  upbuild 
ing,  107 ;  for  use,  his  universal  at 
tributes  to  be  emphasized,  157 ;  xi. 
423  ;  xii.  105  ;  victor  over  things,  x. 
127 ;  to  be  valued  by  his  best  mo 
ments,  vi.  273 ;  wanted,  but  not 
much,  iii.  229 ;  commonly  the  victim 
of  events,  x.  40  ;  is  for  use,  xii.  105 ; 
grows  from  within,  iv.  12 ;  infinite 
worth,  i.  209,  237 ;  has  wronged 
himself,  106. 

MAN  OF  LETTERS,  x.  229-246. 

MAN  THE  REFORMER,  i.  215-244. 

Man  of  the  world,  his  mark  the  ab 
sence  of  pretension,  vi.  144. 

Manchester,  SPEECH  AT,  v.  292-296. 

Manifest  destiny,  xi.  245. 

Manila  of  pepper,  xii.  12. 

Manipular  attempts  to  realize  ideas, 
iii.  85. 

Manliness,  vi.  91 ;  viii.  123,  288. 

Mannerism,  nature  abhors,  iii.  228. 

MANNERS,  iii.  115-150;  ix.  234;  

affirmative,  vii.  290;  effect  of  air 
and  place,  vi.  144,  153;  xii.  85; 
American,  vi.  167 ;  viii.  79 ;  associ 
ate  us,  vi.  165 ;  Bacon  on,  vii.  18 ; 
basis,  self-reliance,  iii.  133 ;  vi.  178 ; 
better  than  beauty,  187  ;  x.  38,  57 ; 
benevolence  the  foundation,  iii. 
138 ;  presuppose  capacity  in  the 
blood,  vi.  169;  charm,  iii.  149;  vi. 
153 ;  viii.  79 ;  a  clothing,  80 ;  com 
municated,  vi.  134,  143,  164  ;  rein 
forced  by  companionship,  viii.  82 ; 
defects,  iii.  135 ;  deference  the  first 
point,  133;  defined,  vi.  163,  178; 
directness  the  mark  of  superior, 
185 ;  and  dress,  viii.  87  ;  English,  v. 
101 ;  rule  of,  to  avoid  exaggeration, 
viii.  85 ;  always  under  examination, 
vi.  165 ;  factitious,  168  ;  fraternize, 
iii.  128 ;  genesis,  124 ;  of  girls,  vi. 
189 ;  of  Greeks,  ii.  28 ;  happy  ways 
of  doing  thingb,  vi.  163 ;  viii.  83 ; 
heroic,  vi.  186  ;  hospitable,  xii.  240 ; 
household,  viii.  104 ;  intellectual 
quality,  iii.  134;  interest,  x.  38; 


irresistible,  vi.  164;  isolation,  viii. 
81 ;  Jonson  on,  iii.  115 ;  a  language, 
vi.  163 ;  and  life,  iii.  124 ;  vii.  121 ; 
inajestic,  14 ;  nature  values,  viii. 
81 ;  novels,  the  record  of,  vi.  183 ; 
vii.  204  ;  xii.  232  ;  of  the  old  school, 
viii.  100 ;  ornament,  ii.  22  ;  Phidias, 
xii.  240;  poetry  of,  vi.  183;  of 
power,  iii.  124 ;  v.  178 ;  vi.  164,  176, 
181  ;  viii.  79,  81,  208,  220  ;  and  reli 
gion,  xii.  99  ;  none  but  negative 
rules,  vi.  188  ;  viii.  85  ;  made  up  of 
sacrifices,  104;  sculpture  teaches, 
vi.  153;  secondariuess  in,  189;  re- 
vealers  of  secrets,  viii.  83;  must 
show  self-control,  vi.  187  ;  their  first 
service  to  make  us  endurable  to  each 
other,  166  ;  and  society,  iii.  144  ;  vi. 
165,  177,  183;  table,  viii.  97;  require 
time,  vi.  179;  tranquil,  vii.  121.  See, 
also,  Behavior. 

Mansfield,  Lord,  vii.  88  ;  xi.  137,  213  ; 
quoted,  v.  248 ;  xi.  169. 

Manual  labor,  i.  224  ff.  See,  also,  La 
bor. 

Manual  skill,  over-estimate  of,  iii.  13. 

Many-weathered  world,  iv.  136. 

Maple,  i.  209 ;  uncorrupt,  iii.  175 ;  ix. 
41 ;  xi.  42. 

Marmontel  quoted,  viii.  183. 

Marriage,  aims,  ii.  178  ;  iii.  179  ;  vii. 
123;  bad,  ii.  142;  iii.  249;  iv.  120; 
vi.  299  ;  vii.  205  ;  of  character,  123  ; 
connected  with  abundance  of  food, 
136;  Fourier  on,  x.  333 /;  a  benefi 
cial  illusion,  vi.  299  ;  low  views  of, 
ii.  174 ;  Milton  on,  xii.  167,  170, 
173  ;  of  minds,  iii.  78  ;  in  novels,  vii. 
205;  open  question,  iv.  151;  Pan 
dora-box,  vi.  299 ;  reform  of,  i.  261 ; 
Swedenborg  on,  iv.  120,  122 ;  trap, 
vi.  299 ;  chief  in  women's  history, 
ii.  174 ;  vii.  120. 

Marseillaise,  xi.  223. 

Martial  quoted,  vi.  283 ;  viii.  177. 

Martyrdoms,  looked  mean  when  they 
were  suffered,  iii.  50;  most  keenly 
felt  by  beholders,  vii.  250  ;  xii.  163. 

Marvell,  Andrew,  quoted,  vii.  143, 
232. 

Masks,  which  we  wear  and  which  we 
meet,  vi.  180  ;  vii.  106-298  ;  ix.  214  ; 
objects  as,  i.  247  ;  vi.  296,  301 ;  viii. 
15,  309. 

Massachusetts,  xi.  217,  409;  in  the 
Civil  War,  321  ;  planters  of,  com 
fortable  citizens,  xii.  93,  107. 

AGRICULTURE  OF,  xii.  219-224. 

QUARTERLY  REVIEW,  EDITORS' 

ADDRESS,  xi.  323-334. 

Massena,  i.  146. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


315 


Masses  of  men,  i.  106,  240;  iv.  34  /; 
we  do  not  want  any  masses,  vi.  237. 

Master,  without  apprenticeship,  vii. 
273 ;  be  master,  viii.  297  ;  one  in 
century,  vi.  238  ;  of  living  well,  vii. 
118 ;  every  man  a,  viii.  296 ;  likes 
masters,  iv.  256  ;  uses  the  materials 
he  has,  vii.  169  ;  his  measure  is  suc 
cess,  vi-  157  ;  of  mobs,  vii.  94,  277  ; 
works  for  joy,  174 ;  passive,  ix.  17 ; 
source  of  his  power,  iii.  60,  94  ;  iy. 
182 ;  can  formulate  his  thought,  xii. 
40. 

Material,  thought  surrounds  itself 
with,  iii.  19 ;  viii.  19  ;  xi.  191,  328 ; 
xii.  5 ;  has  its  translation,  through 
humanity,  into  the  spiritual,  iv.  16. 

Materialism,  i.  183,  311;  iii.  56;  iv. 
148,  165 ;  v.  223  ;  x.  209,  232. 

Mates,  how  found,  vi.  49. 

Matter,  its  laws  run  up  into  the  inv  isi- 
ble  world  of  mind,  x.  74. 

Matter,  devotion  to,  ii.  211 ;  no  final 
ity,  iv.  16,  114  ;  vii.  123 ;  viii.  10 ; 
our  friend,  iii.  165 ;  the  apparition 
of  God,  i.  39,  66  ;  has  meaning,  iii. 

10,  84;  vi.   46,   83;   vii.  159,  283; 
viii.  15  ;  laws  of,  are  laws  of  mind, 
vi.  32,  209 ;  viii.  16,  19,  21,  26  ;  xii. 
40 ;    perception  of,   viii.  9 ;    priva 
tion,  x.  267  ;  and  spirit,  ii.  213 ;  iii. 
56 ;    vi.  27  ;    what  and  whence,  i. 
66 /. 

MAY-DAY,  ix.  143-159. 

MAY  MORNING,  ix.  304 /. 

May  and  must,  xi.  218. 

Maya,  vi.  25. 

Means,  to  ends,  i.  173 ;  degradation  of 
man  to  means,  264 ;  iii.  247 ;  vii. 
110. 

Measure,  love  of,  iii.  135 ;  party  sac 
rifices  man  to  measures,  i.  264 ;  xi. 
402 ;  half-measures,  vi.  203 ;  of  civ 
ilization,  culture,  distance,  friends, 
health,  life,  man,  master,  mind, 
power,  progress,  success,  time.  See 
under  those  icords. 

Mechanics,  vi.  91. 

Mechanics'  Apprentices'  Library  Asso 
ciation,  lecture,  i.  215-244. 

Mechanism  in  thought,  xii.  24. 

Medusa,  the  Rondanini,  vii.  9. 

Melioration,  iv.  38 ;  incapacity  for,  the 
only  mortal  distemper,  vi.  135, 
158  /,  246  ;  vii.  159,  163,  260  ;  viii. 
137  ;  the  law  of  nature,  x.  181  /. 

Melrose  Abbey,  inscription  at,  viii. 
310. 

MEMORY,  xii.  61-81 ;  ix.  242 ;  am 
ber  of,  ii.  166  ;  cave,  i.  196  ;  corpse, 

11.  58 ;  a  critic,  viii.  36 ;  defect  of 


not  always  want  of  intellect,  xii. 
72 ;  diving-bell,  x.  79 ;  eloquence 
steals,  vii.  71;  English  live  by,  v. 
239 ;  not  inert,  iv.  250  ;  life  has  no 
memory,  iii.  72  ;  of  love's  visita 
tions,  ii.  166;  mendicant,  iii.  122; 
vii.  18  ;  mother  of  the  muses,  xii. 
68 ;  notebooks  impair,  ii.  83 ;  praises 
by  holding  fast  the  best,  xii.  75; 
never  rely  on,  ii.  58;  sempiternal, 
300  ;  stone-incarved  traits,  ix.  97  ; 
topical,  vi.  127 ;  things  tragic  are 
comely  in,  ii.  125  ;  waking  and  sleep- 
big,  x.  11 ;  unconscious,  ii.  311 ; 
wall,  x.  7 ;  weakened  by  writing 
and  printing,  xii.  71. 

Men,  not  actions,  wanted,  i.  264 ;  bet 
ter  than  they  seem,  iii.  259;  de 
scend  to  meet,  ii.  261 ;  fragments, 
i.  253 ;  go  in  flocks,  142  ;  knowledge 
of,  vi.  58 ;  nation  of,  i.  115 ;  more 
than  nations,  viii.  209  ;  all  at  last  of 
a  size,  iv.  35;  wanted,  xi.  162; 
well-mixed,  x.  46. 

Manage,  Abbe",  quoted,  vi.  284. 

Menagerie,  vi.  14 ;  x.  12. 

Menauder  quoted,  vii.  124. 

Mencius,  iii.  74  ;  iv.  19. 

Menial  years,  ii.  152. 

Mental  activity,  law  of,  viii.  290. 

Mercantile  Library  Association,  Bos 
ton,  lecture,  i.  341-372. 

Merchant,  the,  iii.  92  ;  vi.  99. 

Merit,  all  sensible  to,  iii.  64 ;  men  can 
not  afford  to  live  together  on  their 
merits,  vii.  18. 

MERLIN,  ix.  106-110. ' 

MEROPS,  ix.  113. 

Merrimac  river,  xii.  88. 

Mesmerism,  iii.  172,  224 ;  vi.  200 ;  x. 
17,  30,  318. 

Messiah,  infancy  a,  i.  74. 

Meta-chernistry,  v.  227. 

Metamorphosis,  the  soul  advances  by, 
ii.  258 ;  viii.  14,  20,  23,  72. 

Metaphor,  nature  a,  i.  38. 

Metaphysics,  a  showing  of  the  relation 
of  things  to  the  mind,  i.  71 ;  ii.  188 ; 
iv.  106 ;  vii.  202  ;  dangerous,  xii.  12 /. 

Metempsychosis.  See  Transmigration. 

Method,  ii.  137;  215,  308  ;  iii.  247  ;  iv. 
102;  analytical,  to  be  avoided,  xii. 
13. 

Methodists,  v.  212  ;  viii.  112,  206. 

Metonymy,  viii.  20,  29. 

Metre,  viii.  49,  51.  See,  also,  Meas 
ure. 

Metternich  quoted,  xi.  398. 

Mexican  War,  vi.  65. 

Microcosm,  each  particle  a,  i.  48 ;  ii. 
98 //  iv.  84,  110;  vi.  121. 


316 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Middle  Ages,  viii.  204. 

Middle  passage,  xii.  270. 

Middle  point,  man  a,  ii.  131. 

Mid-world,  iii.  CG. 

Miles,  iv.  77  ;  vi.  23. 

Military  mind,  x.  41. 

Militia,  xi.  107. 

Milk,  a  man  made  of,  vii.  GO ;  of  na 
ture,  vi.  70. 

Mill,  of  fate,  ix.  233 ;  of  slavery,  xi. 
214 ;  of  truism,  i.  161. 

Millennium,  five  minutes  of  to-day 
worth  as  much  as  five  minutes  in 
the  next  millennium,  iii.  G3. 

Milnes,  Richard  M.,  quoted,  vi.  145. 

MILTON,  JOHN,  xii.  143-174;  

Channing  on,  x.  320 ;  viii.  50 ;  ser 
vice  to  English  language,  xii.  157, 
165 ;  generalizations,  v.  232 ;  hu 
manity,  xii.  188  ;  influence,  x.  376  ; 
too  literary,  iii.  41 ;  manliness,  xii. 
192  :  loved  his  poetry,  viii.  33 ;  his 
prose,  vii.  207;  xii.  172 /;  style,  v. 
223 ;  xii.  225,  247  ;  a  table-land,  v. 
232 ;  tin-pan,  viii.  G9 ;  quoted,  i.  G8, 
259  ;  ii.  168,  187,  274 ;  iii.  32,  107 ; 
iv.  188 ;  viii.  50,  311 ;  x.  411  ;  xi. 
298,  344. 

Mimir's  spring,  vi.  133. 

Mind,  does  not  age,  ii.  298 ;  obedience 
of  body  to,  viii.  67,  266  ;  every  mind 
a  new  classification,  ii.  78 ;  common 
to  all  men,  9;  creator,  xii.  15;  di 
vine,  x.  100  ;  doors  of,  132 ;  flower 
of  the,  i.  203;  iii.  30;  growth,  ii. 
307  ;  hand  of  the,  i.  43  ;  and  heart, 
vi.  208 ;  xii.  56 ;  law  of,  its  deriva 
tion,  ii.  305  ;  viii.  212  ;  what  it  does 
not  live  it  will  not  know,  ii.  15 ;  a 
looking-glass,  viii.  267;  xii.  GG  ;  meas 
ured  by  love,  vi.  208;  measure  of, 
iv.  23  ;  vi.  46 ;  has  its  own  methods, 
ii.  308;  mystery  of,  x.  74;  influ 
ences  of  nature  upon,  i.  86 ;  iii.  188 ; 
vii.  283;  viii.  67;  observation,  xii. 
13 ;  nothing  old  but,  viii.  202 ;  not 
enshrined  in  a  person,  i.  108 ;  like 
plant,  xii.  22 ;  source  of  all  power, 
viii.  281;  x.  130;  rank  in  minds, 
viii.  295;  the  only  reality,  i.  315; 
good  sailor,  v.  33;  science  of,  ii. 
321 ;  vii.  283 ;  x.  269 ;  xii.  11 ;  sex 
of,  vi.  59 ;  temple,  290 ;  its  think 
ing  prior  to  reflection,  ii.  305  ;  unity, 
xii.  184 ;  universal,  i.  123 ;  ii.  9 ;  x. 
95 ;  better  the  more  it  is  used,  xi. 
400  ;  varieties,  »ii.  16  ;  the  world  its 
table,  i.  120 ;  iii.  188  ;  x.  131 ;  youth 
of,  ii.  256. 

Mind-cure,  vii.  215. 

Minder,  vii.  137. 


Mine,  and  his,  ii.  119  ;  who  are,  186. 
Minerva,  iii.  74. 

Minister.     See  Clergy,  Preachers. 
Minnesinger  quoted,  viii.  41. 
Minorities,    iii.    126 ;    vi.    236 ;    viii. 
206,  208  //  influence  of,  xi.  222, 

Mirabeau,  iv.  216;  vii.  10;  A  iii.  2G8. 

MIRACLE,  THE,  ix.  305 /. 

Miracle,  argument  from,  i.  127 ;  xi. 
390  ;  belief  in,  vi.  269 ;  Christianity 
does  not  rest  on,  x.  106 ;  xi.  390 ;  in 
the  common,  i.  78 ;  x.  18 ;  conver 
sion  by,  i.  131 ;  false  emphasis  on, 
128 ;  of  genius,  viii.  258,  291 ;  the 
hero  believes  in,  i.  319  ;  of  Hohen- 
lohe,  76 ;  life  a,  128,  319 ;  iii.  72 ; 
of  mind,  xii.  6 ;  is  monster,  i.  128  ; 
x.  17;  the  one,  iv.  109;  x.  192, 
214 ;  of  poetry,  viii.  21 ;  of  science, 
197  ;  self-sacrifice  the  root  of,  vii. 
239  ;  universal,  ii.  66  ;  of  will,  xii. 
43. 

Mirrors,  poets  are,  iii.  43. 

Mirth,  its  limits,  viii.  166. 

Misers,  v.  131 ;  vi.  127  ;  vii.  273. 

Misfortunes,  the  good  are  befriended 
by,  ii.  112. 

Missionaries,  men  made  for,  vi.  140 ; 
things  as,  x.  86. 

Mist,  affections  as,  ii.  304  ;  ix.  36. 

Mistakes,  nature  makes  none  and  par 
dons  none,  i.  44 ;  x.  40. 

Misunderstood,  ii.  58. 

MITHRIDATES,  ix.  30  ;  xii.  265. 

Mixtures  in  nature,  xii.  24. 

Mobs,  ii.  115  ;  iii.  203  ;  a  course  of,  vi. 
78,  248  ;  vii.  77,  94 //  viii.  142 /. 

Models  are  to  be  refused,  i.  143 ;  x. 
35,  63. 

Moderation,  be  moderate  as  the  fact, 
x.  1G2,  164. 

Mohammed.    See  Mahomet. 

Molecular  philosophy,  iii.  66. 

Moments,  the  quality,  not  number, 
imports,  i.  330  ;  ii.  296,  300  ;  iii.  G3, 
111 ;  iv.  10 ;  vii.  162,  170  /,  175  /; 
viii.  39  ;  ix.  21,  288  ;  x.  242. 

Momentum  of  thought  and  emotion, 
i.  336;  xii.  21. 

Momus,  vi.  297;  x.  30. 

MONADNOC,  ix.  58-70,  310 ;  ix.  13, 

282,  312. 

Monads,  viii.  10. 

Monarchs,  iii.  199,  202;  x.  44.  See, 
also,  Kings. 

Money,  a  barometer,  vi.  101 ;  blood, 
121  ;  what  it  can  buy,  101  ;  viii. 
255 ;  often  costs  too  much,  vi.  107  ; 
and  culture,  xii.  258 ;  not  all  debts 
paid  with,  iii.  244;  x.  64;  dragon, 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


317 


v.  163 ;   effrontery,  x.  267  ;   means 

of  freedom,  vii.  Ill ;   giving,  112 ; 

Indians    and    negroes  as,   xi.   214; 

laws  of  the   world  written  on,  ii. 

221;   making,  i.  223;    vi.   99,   127; 

vii.  27  ;  xii.  258  ;  a  delicate  meter, 

vi.  100 ;  must  have,  xi.  406 ;  its  pa 
per  wings,  v.  163 ;  prose  of  life,  iii. 

221 ;   laws  beautiful   as  roses,  221 ; 

for  what  sought,  i.  107 ;   rule  for 

spending,  362 ;  ii.  221 ;  iii.  221 ;  vi. 

122  ;  vii.  108  ;  use,  iii.  240  ;  iv.  147  ; 

vi.  122  ;  wise  man  needs  not,  iii.  207; 

possesses  world,  vi.  94. 
Monk,  Basle,  story  of,  vi.  185. 
Monks,  i.  218  ;  x.  140. 
Monoco,  John,  xi.  61. 
Monomaniacs,  utility  of,  vi.  93. 
Monopolies  not  admitted,  i.  261 ;   ii. 

96 ;  xi.  424. 
Monotones,  xii.  46 /. 
MONTAIGNE,    iv.    141-177 ;    and 

bigots,   x.   181 ;   use  of  books,  viii. 

274  ;  delight  in,  iii.  58  ;  eclecticism, 

x.  291 ;   in  Italy,  iii.    133 ;    Landor 

on,   v.    11 ;   license  of  speech,   xii. 

203 ;   and  Plutarch,  x.  283 ;   not  to 

be  read,  viii.  279  ;  spirit,  xii.  184 ; 

power  of  statement,  vii.  88 ;  value, 

xii.  205 ;    defense  in  civil  wars,  i. 

304  ;   quoted,  vi.  Ill  ;    vii.  188 ;  x. 

279. 
Montesquieu  quoted,  v.   83 ;   vii.  37, 

228  ;  viii.  313,  324  ;  x.  279  ;  xi.  169, 

224. 
Montluc  quoted,  vii.   246;   viii.    142, 

291. 
Moods,  life  a  train  of,  iii.  53,  58 /,  73, 

235,  257  ;  iv.  167  ;  vi.  304  ;  vii.  162 ; 

viii.  259. 
Moore,  Thomas,  xii.  227,  229  ;  quoted, 

viii.  52,  177,  187. 
Moral,  all  things  are,  i.  46  ;  ii.  99  ;  vii. 

282 ;  viii.  11 ;  xi.  328 ;   denned,  vi. 

205 ;    xi.  288 ;    measure   of  health, 

208 ;  x.  179. 

Moral  discipline  of  life,  x.  96,  186. 
Moral    element,   in    beauty,   vi.   207, 

290 ;  in  life,  194 ;  viii.  214  ;  xii.  57  ; 

in  poetry,  viii.  64. 
Moral  evil,  debt  to,  xii.  51. 
Moral  forces  in  nature,  i.  48  ;  iii.  Ill ; 

x.  86,  89,  180. 
Moral  genius,  xi.  173. 
Moral  laws,  vi.  200;  universality  of, 

i.  132 ;  iii.  203 ;  x.  17,  134. 
Moral  nature  vitiated  by  interference 

of  will,  ii.  127  ;  vi.  205  ;  xi.  133. 
Moral  power,  has  not  kept  pace  with 

material,  vii.  160,  182 ;  the  two  al 
lied,  viii.  299  ;  x.  66,  74. 


Moral  problems,  xi.  194. 

Moral  science,  vi.  229;  x.  93. 

Moral  sentiment,  adorers  of,  x.  117  ; 
its  authority,  217  ;  in  animals,  178  ; 
its  commanding  attraction,  137  ;  vi. 
223;  the  causing  force,  i.  274;  vi. 
211  ;  vii.  96 ;  foundation  of  cul 
ture,  iii.  210  ;  vi.  166  ;  vii.  202 ;  viii. 
216;  x.  97;  xi.  383;  equalizes  all, 
vi.  223;  speaks  to  every  man,  xi. 
388 ;  critic  of  forms,  x.  105 ;  grows 
everywhere,  like  grass,  111 ;  makes 
free,  vi.  32  ;  x.  94,  216  ;  images  of, 
98 ;  intellect  without,  vii.  257  ;  sup 
ported  by  self-interest,  xi.  155 ;  ne 
gations  of,  viii.  221 ;  new  uses,  iii. 
70 ;  makes  poetry,  iv.  92 ;  power, 
91 //  vi.  33;  x.  88,  97,  102;  per 
manence,  vi.  204  ;  vii.  288  ;  x.  104, 
113 ;  takes  precedence,  iv.  92  ;  the 
supreme  reality,  i.  46,  274  ;  x.  93, 
97;  religion  its  practice,  104,  114, 
200,  203;  renunciation  of,  vii.  78; 
measured  by  sacrifice,  viii.  325 ;  in 
Saxon  race,  v.  294 ;  science  does  not 
surprise  it,  viii.  217 ;  skepticism 
lost  in,  iv.  174  ;  foundation  of  soci 
ety,  i.  125;  vi.  217;  vii.  30,  36; 
x.  67 ;  xi.  313 ;  Sophocles  on,  x. 
295. 

Moral  union  and  intellectual,  vii.  14. 

Moral  values  and  material,  commen 
surate,  vi.  101  ;  xi.  328 ;  xii.  106. 

Moral  world,  a  world  of  precise  law, 
iv.  82. 

Morality,  the  basis  of  legislation,  xi. 
288,  331,  421 ;  mere  morality,  vi. 
206 ;  x.  195. 

Morals,  the  measure  of,  and  arts,  vii. 
159 ;  defined,  30 ;  dogmas  rest  on, 
x.  109,  113 ;  mixes  itself  with  econ 
omy,  vi.  90  ;  is  direction  of  the  will 
on  universal  ends,  x.  94 ;  object  of 
government,  xi.  288,  422;  moral 
sentiment  helps  us  by  putting  us  in 
place,  x.  97 ;  language  the  test  of, 
iii.  220  ;  not  lodged  in  us,  but  we  in 
it,  x.  99 ;  and  population  depends 
on,  vii.  147 ;  immoral  religions,  vi. 
199;  x.  109,  113;  unity  of  thought 
and,  178 ;  not  to  be  voted  down,  xi. 
223. 

More,  Henry,  quoted,  ii.  249 ;  xi.  344. 

More,  tragedy  of  more  and  less,  ii. 
118. 

Morgue  of  convention,  iv.  275;  vii. 
229. 

Morning,  defend  your  morning,  viii. 
271 ;  influences,  269,  271 ;  let  it  be, 
vii.  173;  of  the  mind,  i.  163,  210; 
iii.  186,  188;  peace,  186;  do  not 


318 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


pollute,  vi.  188;  spectacle,  i.  22; 
new  thought  awaits,  viii.  271,  294 ; 
tranquillity,  iii.  28. 

Morphy,  Paul,  vii.  253. 

Morte  d'Arthur,  viii.  61,  275. 

Mothers,  men  are  what  their  mothers 
made  them,  vi.  1G. 

Mother -wit,  vi.  130,  205;  x.  154, 
269. 

Motion,  nature's  secret,  i.  55  ;  iii.  173, 
186 ;  vi.  277,  279. 

Motives,  work  depends  on,  x.  244. 

Mountain  and  squirrel,  ix.  71. 

Mountains,  influence  of  their  presence, 
vi.  153 ;  ix.  282 ;  xii.  85,  187. 

Mozart,  i.  324. 

Much  will  have  more,  vii.  156. 

Mud,  at  bottom  of  eye,  vi.  174 ;  maga 
zine,  v.  18 ;  pies,  x.  345 ;  sills,  xii. 
105. 

Mumps,  soul's,  ii.  126. 

Mundt,  Theodore,  quoted,  xii.  256. 

Murder,  as  it  appears  to  the  murderer, 
iii.  79. 

Musagetes,  viii.  269. 

Muses,  x.  250 ;  are  where  the  heart  is, 
ii.  242. 

Museums,  vii.  125  jf. 

Mush  of  concession,  ii.  199 ;  of  mate 
rialism,  viii.  104.  _ 

Mushroom,  power,  i.  242. 

Music,  bath,  vi.  98  ;  of  clock,  ii.  214 ; 
discord  in,  vi.  278 ;  disdain,  ix.  24 ; 
drunken,  110 ;  opens  heavens,  vii. 
203 ;  life  is,  vi.  15 ;  Milton  on,  xii. 
154,  158;  mute,  i.  24;  mystery,  ii. 
170;  of  nature,  ix.  206;  effect  of 
place  on,  vii.  49,  50;  poor  man's 
Parnassus,  viii.  54  ;  power,  vii.  48 /, 
58;  viii.  49;  x.  81,  83;  sky-born, 
ix.  272 ;  every  sound  ends  in,  vii. 
289  ;  a  suggestion,  iii.  182  ;  tongue 
framed  to,  xii.  143  ;  voice  the  sweet 
est,  ii.  340 ;  out  of  a  work-house,  iii. 
153. 

MUSKETAQUID,  ix.  124-127 ;  ix. 

213,  285. 

Musket-worship,  v.  272. 

Must  and  may,  actual  and  ideal,  xi. 
218. 

Mysteries,  dramatic,  x.  234. 

Mysticism  and  mystics,  i.  262  ;  iii.  37  ; 
iv.  95 ;  viii.  250. 

Mythology,  i.  196;  ii.  103;  viii.  173, 
184,  209  ;  xii.  32,  94,  262. 

Nachiketas,  viii.  331. 

Namer,  poet  is,  iii.  26. 

Names,   faith  in,  i.  140  ;  287  ;  ii.  68, 

242 ;   iv.  9,  84 ;  viii.  29  ;   things  by 

their  right  names,  x.  145. 


NAPLES,  WRITTEN  IN,  ix.  300  /; 

ii.  80,  336. 

NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE,  iv.  211-245; 

a  right  aristocrat,  x.  54 ;  art  of 

war,  ii.  85  ;  v.  58  ;  vi.  56 ;  vii.  169  ; 
xi.  321 ;  story  of  a  banker,  vi.  99 ; 
battalions,  heaviest,  v.  85 ;  belief, 
vi.  33 ;  fell  back  on  the  bivouac,  ii. 
85;  use  of  cannon,  viii.  265,  297; 
and  Caprara,  iii.  132 ;  caution,  i. 
173  ;  viii.  264 ;  called  "  Cent  Mille," 
vi.  238 ;  viii.  208 ;  Channing  on,  x. 
320;  character,  viii.  297;  celerity 
of  combination,  x.  81  ;  common 
sense,  viii.  9;  coolness,  80;  Cor- 
sican  entrenchment,  140  ;  blun 
der  worse  than  crime,  iii.  80 ;  di 
plomacy,  ii.  138  ;  egotism,  vi.  152 ; 
in  Egypt,  x.  242;  endurance,  xii. 
271 ;  faith,  i.  173 ;  feared  eyes,  iii. 
132  ;  army  at  Eylan,  vi.  72  ;  courted 
fashion,  iii.  125 ;  fell  on  his  feet,viii. 
297 ;  trusted  in  his  fortune,  i.  174  ; 
accounted  for  his  fortune,  iii.  92  ; 
011  Fox,  138 ;  great,  viii.  297;  Green- 
ough  on,  vii.  277 ;  hand,  257;  x. 
20  ;  heart,  viii.  316  ;  history,  ii.  15  ; 
intellectual,  vi.  152,  301 ;  xii.  69  ; 
Joseph,  vi.  186 ;  viii.  297  ;  Massena, 
i.  146  ;  adaptation  of  means  to 
ends,  173 ;  Mediterranean  a  French 
lake,  vii.  161;  not  model,  x.  63; 
knew  but  one  merit,  ii.  156;  over 
throw,  v.  90 ;  patriot,  vi.  18 ;  per 
sonal  ascendency,  i.  197 ;  not  for 
picket-duty,  x.  236  ;  and  the  plague, 
vi.  222 ;  affected  plainness,  145 ; 
plans,  ii.  128;  viii.  264;  in  prison, 
ii.  39 ;  on  religion,  x.  184 ;  and  the 
republicans  of  1789,  xii.  103 ;  royal 
armies  against,  ii.  112;  rule,  vii. 
272 ;  sayings,  viii.  17  ;  self -trust, 
297  ;  x.  20  ;  skill,  vii.  268  ;  believed 
in  force  of  soul,  i.  173  ;  Madame  de 
Stae'l,  iii.  132;  v.  117;  tactics,  vii. 
84  ;  vices  good  patriots,  34  ;  a 
worker,  i.  173;  iii.  126;  needed  a 
world,  ii.  39. 

Napoleon,  Louis,  v.  121 ;  xi.  224. 

Narcotics  as  inspiration,  iii.  31  /. 

Nations,  have  been  mobs,  iii.  Ill,  219 
ft  iv.  47  ft  are  doing  well  when 
occupied  solely  with  their  own  af 
fairs,  viii.  209  ;  xft  413. 

Natura,  vii.  164. 

Natura  naturans,  iii.  172;  naturata, 
170. 

Natural  history,  to  be  married  to  hu 
man,  i.  33,  77 ;  iii.  171 ;  vi.  268 ;  viii. 
317 ;  x.  177 ;  xii.  3 ;  resources  in, 
viii.  146,  288. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


319 


Natural  corresponds  to  mental  law,  i. 

88;   iii.  176;   iv.  143;  viii.  13,  211, 

257,  290 ;  xii.  4. 
Natural  objects  as  meanings,   i.   37, 

202  ;  iii.  20  ;  not  to  be  known  out  of 

their  connection,  viii.  14. 
Natural  religion,  xi.  389. 
Natural  science,  i.  45 ;  and  religion, 

vi.  209 ;  viii.  201. 
Naturalist,  his  methods,  x.  152. 
NATURE,    i.    7-80;    iii.   161-188;    ix. 

193 /;  241,  244. 

AND  LIFE,  FRAGMENTS  ON,  IX.  278- 

298. 

METHOD  OF,  i.  181-213. 

Song  of,  ix.  209-212. 

an  incessant  advance,  xi.  408  ; 

an  allegory,  x.  185 ;  analogies,  16, 
177 ;  never  wears  a  mean  appear 
ance,  i.  13;  beauty  the  aim  of,  vi. 
-  283,  288  ;  xii.  118  ;  has  her  own  best 
mode  of  doing  things,  iii.  26  ;  vi. 
118  ;  loved  by  what  is  best  in  us,  iii. 
171 ;  the  book  of  Fate,  vi.  20 ;  no 
braggart,  x.  170;  no  Buddhist,  iii. 
225 ;  changes  without  violence,  26, 
172 ;  a  system  of  circles,  i.  19,  86 ; 
ii.  293 ;  iii.  25 ;  is  tyrannous  cir 
cumstance,  vi.  20;  fashions  cities, 
iii.  175 ;  a  mutable  cloud,  ii.  18  ;  does 
not  cocker  us,  iii.  153 ;  vi.  12 ;  no 
seat  vacant  in  her  college,  iii.  231 ; 
no  conjurer,  x.  18 ;  always  consist 
ent,  iii.  174  ;  conspiracies  against,  x. 
25 ;  converse  with,  i.  164 ;  vi.  295 ; 
vii.  148  ;  counsellor,  ii.  221 ;  a  crea 
tion  of  the  mind,  vi.  295  ;  reveals 
crime,  112;  deceitful,  iii.  184;  defi 
nition  of,  i.  10  ;  veils  deformity,  vii. 
290  ;  deifies  us,  i.  23  ;  departments, 
a  man  for  each,  viii.  288 ;  derivation 
of  name,  vii.  164 ;  loves  details,  iii. 
225 ;  descends  from  above,  i.  191 ; 
despotic,  iii.  192 ;  wears  devout  as 
pect,  i.  65  ;  her  dice  always  loaded, 
44 ;  dilettantism  about,  iii.  170 ;  dis 
cipline  of  mind,  i.  42,  45;  not  to 
be  disposed  of,  iv.  77 ;  dust  allied 
to,  x.  190  ;  in  earnest,  vii.  236 ;  econ 
omy,  i.  352  ;  vi.  41,  249 ;  elusive,  iii. 
184;  embosom  all,  i.  27,  236;  en 
camped  in,  iii.  182 ;  a  cup  of  en 
chantment,  i.  203  ;  iii.  167  ;  not  end 
in  itself,  i.  25,  54,  192,  202  ;  iii.  170  ; 
viii.  10,  19 ;  ethical,  i.  46  ;  is  fate,  ii. 
328 ;  vi.  20 ;  vii.  45,  51 ;  not  to  be 
feared,  vi.  51 ;  ferocity,  ii.  235 ;  vi. 
13  ;  seen  by  few,  i.  14  ;  a  perpetual 
filtration,  vii.  186;  not  fixed  but 
flowing,  i.  79 ;  viii.  72 ;  flattery,  iii. 
184 ;  fools  us,  53,  185  ;  forces,  x.  73  ; 


xi.  218 ;  a  sea  of  forms,  i.  29 ;  frame 
for  man  as  picture,  27 ;  freaks, 
vii.  298 ;  will  not  have  us  fret,  ii. 
129  ;  iii.  105 ;  frugal,  226 ;  xii.  104  ; 
funeral,  ix.  218;  x.  371;  wiU  not 
have  us  live  by  general  views,  iii. 
226;  genius  a  transmutation  of,  i. 
197,  208 ;  vi.  58 ;  conditions  of  her 
gifts,  xii.  26 ;  gladness,  i.  15 ;  Goe 
the's  study  of,  iv.  261 ;  measure  of 
greatness,  x.  169 ;  ever-growing,  i. 
193  ;  we  are  guests  in,  xii.  268 ;  rain 
the  hermitage  of,  i.  169 ;  hiero 
glyphic,  viii.  66  ;  history,  iv.  249  ; 
hotel  not  home,  viii.  10  ;  never  hur 
ries,  iv.  79 ;  vii.  135  ;  xii.  45 ;  ideal 
ist,  viii.  30 ;  incarnation  of  God  in 
the  unconscious,  i.  68 ;  iii.  187 ;  se 
cures  individualism,  68,  177 ;  vi. 
128,  133 ;  inexact  and  boundless,  i. 
191 ;  inspiration  in  youth,  vii.  280  ; 
instability,  ii.  283 ;  insures  herself, 
iii.  27;  intellect,  see  under  Intel 
lect  ;  interpretation,  iv.  16 ;  never 
jests,  viii.  151 ;  x.  170  ;  never  jumps, 
319  ;  justice,  184  ;  labor  her  coin,  ii. 
118  ;  language,  viii.  15 ;  unity  of  her 
laws,  iii.  173  /;  xi.  155 ;  identity 
with  the  laws  of  the  human  mind, 
xii.  4,  18  ;  works  in  leasts,  iv.  102  ; 
vii.  168  ;  ix.  244 ;  lessons  never  lost, 
i.  37  ;  likenesses  in  all  her  works,  ii. 
20  ;  no  literalist,  iv.  117  ;  not  in  lit 
erature,  viii.  66 ;  logical,  xi.  331 ; 
love  of,  iii.  20 ;  her  magazines  inex 
haustible,  vii.  139  ;  turns  malfea 
sance  to  good,  vi.  239,  243 ;  ought 
to  command,  95 ;  viii.  98  ;  xii.  105 ; 
a  disguised  man,  xii.  21 ;  man  the 
end  of,  vi.  55;  abhors  mannerism, 
iii.  228  ;  the  measure  of  our  rise  and 
fall,  i.  188  ;  medicinal,  22  ;  meliora 
tion,  352  ;  iii.  165  ;  vi.  135 ;  x.  181 // 
her  method,  vii.  138 ;  xi.  171 ;  mid 
dle-class,  367  ;  Milton  on,  i.  163  ;  xii. 
155 ;  mimetic,  vi.  294 ;  mirror  of 
man,  x.  185 ;  pardons  no  mistakes, 
i.  44;  ministry,  18 //  miracle,  vii. 
164 ;  loves  mixtures,  x.  173  ;  xii. 
23;  moral  in,  i.  40,  46 /;  vii.  282; 
motion,  iii.  186 ;  vi.  279 ;  music,  ix. 
206 ;  does  not  like  to  be  observed, 
iii.  53;  we  are  parasites  in,  165; 
has  but  one  stuff,  174 ;  ornament, 
mark  of  excellence,  vi.  275;  never 
outwitted,  x.  30 ;  protects  own  work, 
vii.  12 ;  paroquet,  ix.  121 ;  her  pa 
tience,  vii.  135;  x.  152;  xii.  47; 
hates  peeping,  iii.  62 ;  perfect  by 
practice,  vi.  78  ;  permanence,  x.  130 ; 
pernicious  elements,  184 ;  hunting 


320 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


of  the  picturesque,  iii.  171 ;  posture- 
master,  viii.  82 ;  endless  production, 
iii.  27,  172,  185 ;  vi.  238 ;  proportion 
of  means  to  ends,  x.  170 ;  prose,  ii. 
327 ;  Proteus,  iii.  172 ;  punctual,  x. 
170 ;  pure,  ii.  255 ;  rag-merchant,  vi. 
249 ;  ally  of  religion,  i.  4G ;  will  be 
reported,  iv.  249 ;  never  rhymes  her 
children,  iii.  106  ;  rhymes  in  things, 
ix.  53,  255 ;  right  manifested  in,  x. 
185 ;  xi.  296 ;  no  saint,  iii.  66 ;  sana 
tive,  viii.  213 ;  has  at  heart  the  for 
mation  of  the  scholar,  iv.  252 ;  her 
secret  is  patience,  x.  152  ;  her  secret 
never  extorted,  i.  14 ;  ii.  339 ;  iii. 
185;  sediment  of  mind,  i.  188;  no 
seeming  in,  viii.  152 ;  selects,  vii. 
186 ;  selfish  study  of,  iii.  172 ;  self- 
poise,  vi.  195;  self-registration,  iv. 
250  ;  self-similar,  102,  104  ;  vii.  209  ; 
x.  113 ;  as  our  sensibility,  iii.  54 ; 
viii.  212  ;  no  sentimentalist,  vi.  12  ; 
servant  of  man,  i.  45  ;  x.  71 ;  xi.  397  ; 
shadow  of  man,  viii.  27  ;  simplicity, 
ii.  131;  x.  109,  169;  solicits  man, 
i.  86 ;  and  soul,  10 ;  spasms,  x. 
185 ;  xi.  224  ;  spends  freely,  408 ; 
wears  the  colors  of  the  spirit, 
i.  17  ;  sprained  foot,  xii.  45 ;  and 
states  of  mind,  viii.  69  ;  crosses 
her  stocks,  vii.  156  ;  stoic,  ix.  217  ; 
x.  371 ;  strength,  iii.  47  ;  iv.  203 ; 
vi.  84  ;  x.  253  ;  xii.  50  ;  sublimity, 
viii.  214;  not  a  substance,  i.  54; 
subtle,  vii.  140;  suggestions,  142; 
surprises,  i.  190  ;  ix.  166,  193  ; 
swamp,  x.  181;  syllables,  ix.  206; 
symbol,  i.  37, 204 ;  iii.  18,  38,  43 ;  vii. 
13, 69 ;  systematic,vi.  114 ;  teachings, 
70 ;  x.  127  ;  tell-tale,  16  ;  echoes  the 
ten  commandments,  i.  46  ;  cautious 
testator,  vii.  139  ;  theory  of,  i. 
10 ;  thermometer,  iii.  172  ;  works 
in  immense  time,  xi.  408  ;  no  toy 
to  a  wise  spirit,  i.  14 ;  authorizes 
trade,  iii.  92 ;  transcendental,  i. 
320  ;  not  tricked,  iii.  32 ;  trips  us 
up  when  we  strut,  v.  147 ;  her 
touch  should  thrill,  iii.  12  ;  beats  in 
tune,  ix.  53 ;  tyrannizes,  vi.  20 ; 
vii.  45  ;  nothing  ultimate  in,  i.  54  ; 
never  in  undress,  iii.  170 ;  unity, 
i.  48  ;  vii.  138  ;  14 ;  ix.  120  ;  x. 
178 ;  universality,  i.  192,  194  ;  vii. 
139  ;  unresting,  i.  236  ;  vii.  140  ; 
her  victims,  iii.  68  ;  victories,  viii. 
123  ;  in  league  with  virtue,  ii.  Ill  ; 
wealth,  viii.  133,  135;  x.  237;  xi. 
397  ;  xii.  26  ;  hits  the  white  once  in 
a  million  throws,  vi.  238;  whistles 
with  all  her  winds,  xii.  48 ;  whole 


ness,  ii.  317;  her  preponderance  over 
our  will,  128  ;  vii.  50  ;  gets  her  work 
done,  iii.  226;  xii.  104;  rids  the 
world  of  wrong,  xi.  224. 

Navigation,  the  advancer  of  nations, 
v.  53  ;  vii.  25. 

Naylor,  James,  iii.  180  ;  x.  196. 

Near,  value  of,  i.  110 /;  ii.  81 ;  viii. 
193. 

Necessary,  make  yourself,  i.  180  ;  vi. 
260. 

Necessity,  beautiful,  vi.  51 ;  cannot 
emancipate  ourselves  from,  ii.  328, 
340  ;  vi.  10,  24,  51 ;  vii.  57  ;  does  all 
things  well,  i.  268  ;  iii.  154  ;  x.  182  ; 
xii.  263  ;  beauty  rests  on,  iii.  19  ; 
vi.  279.  See,  also,  Fate,  Liberty. 

Negations,  be  patient  with  our,  i.  334 ; 
iv.  165 ;  shun,  vii.  291  ;  viii.  96,  134, 
221 ;  of  Boston  Unitarianism,  x.  196, 
211. 

Negro  ages  of  sentiment,  x.  311. 

Negroes,  vii.  24 ;  xi.  132-175,  207-230, 
303  ;  xii.  259.  See,  also,  Abolition 
ism,  Emancipation,  Slavery. 

Nelson,  Horatio,  v.  69,  86,  100,  138  ; 
quoted,  128,  149,  189  ;  vii.  272  ;  viii. 
291. 

Nemesis,  ii.  104,  145  ;  vi.  195 ;  ix.  110  ; 
x.  42  ;  xi.  314. 

Neri,  St.  Philip,  vi.  217. 

Nettle  in  friend's  side,  ii.  199. 

New,  not  the  old,  is  the  divine  gift, 
xii.  80. 

New  comers,  vi.  60. 

NEW  ENGLAND,  NOTES  OF  LIFE  AND 
LETTERS  IN,  x.  305-347. 

REFORMERS,  iii.  237-270. 

New  Englander,  vii.  69  /,  95  ;  x.  125 ; 
xii.  88,  94,  96,  98. 

New  Hampshire,  ix.  23,  72. 

New  phrase,  illusion  in,  viii.  185. 

News,  the  poet  the  only  teller  of, 
viii.  33. 

Newspapers,  xi.  206 ;  268  ;  poor  man's 
college,  vii.  28 ;  we  hate  to  be  de 
fended  in,  ii.  114;  vii.  28;  each 
believes  his  own,  iii.  196;  vii.  75; 
influence,  v.  247  ;  notice  in,  viii.  188  ; 
reading,  vii.  188  ;  viii.  279 ;  xi. 
206  ;  sponge  for  oblivion,  xii.  71 ; 
not  to  be  suppressed,  iv.  183. 

New  Testament,  x.  115  /;  xi.  390. 
See,  also,  Bible. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  desire  to  avoid 
new  acquaintance,  vii.  11 ;  agitation 
in  calculation,  viii.  211 ;  alternation 
of  employment,  144;  and  Bacon, 
v.  236;  childless,  xii.  110;  discov 
eries,  x.  130  ;  eccentricity,  iv.  96 ; 
Leibnitz  and,  vii.  152  ;  unity  and  sim- 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


321 


plicity  of  his  life,  175  ;  xii.  31  ; 
memory  poor,  72  ;  method,  vi.  75 ; 
misunderstood,  ii.  59 ;  on  naviga 
tion,  xi.  395  ;  old  age,  vii.  304  ;  but 
one,  279 ;  his  opinion  of  sculpture, 
ii.  339 ;  on  Terence,  viii.  58  ;  uni 
verse  made  at  one  cast,  213  ;  whitest 
soul,  xi.  237;  quoted,  i.  99;  viii. 
95. 

New  York,  vii.  35  ;  viii.  301 ;  xi.  423. 

Niagara  Falls,  vi.  153  ;  made  by  differ 
ence  of  level,  viii.  302  ;  swim  against, 
xii.  11. 

Nibelungenlied,  ii.  103. 

Nicholas,  Czar,  i.  355 ;  x.  462. 

Nicknames,  effect  of  good  nicknames, 
iv.  60. 

Niebuhr,  Barthold,  return  of  his 
genius,  viii.  2G7  ;  quoted,  46  ;  xi. 
279  ;  xii.  67. 

Nile,  the  fountains  of,  iii.  260,  262 ;  xii. 
15. 

NlMETOLLAH,  SEYD,  SONG  OF,  ix.  249  /. 

Nineteenth  century,  age  of  tools,  vii. 
151 /. 

No,  inability  to  say  no,  x.  296 ;  val 
iant,  iii.  93. 

No-government  reform,  i.  204  ;  v.  272. 

Noah's  ark,  poet's  mind  a,  iii.  43. 

Noblesse  oblige,  viii.  218. 

Nobility,  a  new,  i.  364/;  iii.  43 ;  vi. 
Ill  ;  viii.  99,  200 ;  x.  44,  59,  63,  65. 

Noise,  iii.  134 ;  vi.  148. 

Nomadism,  ii.  '25  ff. 

NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST,  iii.  213-236. 

Nonconformity,  ii.  51, 57  ;  iii.  99,  104 ; 
iv.  163. 

Non-resistance,  iii.  243;  v.  272;  xi. 
194. 

Nonsense,  refreshing,  vi.  255  ;  xii.  50. 

Noon,  terror  of,  ii.  108. 

Norsemen,  v.  58 /V  vii.  271. 

North,  Christopher,  see  Wilson,  John. 

Northcote,  James,  vi.  177. 

Northiugton,  Lord,  quoted,  xi.  164. 

Northman,  quatrain,  ix.  240. 

Nose,  vi.  174,  277. 

Not-me,  i.  10. 

Nothing  beneath  you,  vi.  110  ;  nothing 
fair  alone,  ix.  14  ;  nothing  for  no 
thing,  the  rule  of  the  universe,  vi. 
212. 

Nouns  of  intellect,  the  facts  in  nature 
are,  vi.  288  ;  in  nature,  viii.  15,  20. 

Novalis  quoted,  iv.  266. 

Novelists,  vii.  206  ;  xii.  49. 

Novels,  ii.  164  ;  340 ;  vi.  183//  vii. 
202  ff;  viii.  80;  x.  141;  xii.  232  ff. 
See,  also,  Fiction. 

Now,  ask  the,  i.  158  ;  ii.  16 ;  vii.  167, 
171. 


Nullifiers,  solitary,  iii.  243. 

Numbers,  power  of,  i.  185,  263 ;  ii.  86, 
276. 

Nun,  story  of,  vi.  217. 

NUN'S  ASPIRATION,  ix.  217  /;  x.  373, 
note. 

Nursery,  common,  x.  343 ;  tales,  om 
nipresent,  viii.  178. 

Obedience,  ii.  69,  132 ;  vi.  229 ;  x.  84, 

200  ;  xii.  105. 
Obelisk,  vii.  57  ;  xii.  191. 
Objections,  iii.  62,  248. 
Objects,  i.  41,  204;  iii.  77;  x.  194. 
Obscurity,  from  numbers,  xi.  326. 
Obstacles,  the  conditions  of,  various, 

vi.  242  ;  viii.  140,  219. 
Occupation,  choice  of,  ii.  132 /. 
Ocean,   i.  195  /;  v.  32,  54 ;  vii.  282 ; 

there  is  enough  of  it,  viii.  134  ;  of 

life,  i.  273 ;  of  thought,  ii.  71 ;  iii. 

60,  75.    See,  also,  Sea. 
October,  i.  25;   iii.  163;   woods,  vii. 

281 ;  viii.  271 ;  ix.  240. 
Ocular  dialect,  vi.  173. 
Odin,  v.  61,  64,  92  ;  vii.  168, 224  ;  viii. 

(Edipus,  iii.  185. 

Oersted,  Hans  C.,  viii.  211  ;  x.  177. 

Oestrum,  New  England,  x.  227. 

Office,  public,  iii.  208  ;  xi.  167,  331. 

Olaf,  King,  vi.  197  ;  vii.  268  ;  quoted, 
v.  63. 

Old,  corrupts,  vii.  170;  nothing  old 
but  mind,  viii.  202 ;  reverence  for, 
vii.  275 ;  viii.  170 ;  is  for  slaves,  i. 
141. 

OLD  AGE,  vii.  295-316 ;  the  only  dis 
ease,  ii.  297 //  vi.  44;  x.  135. 

Old-school  gentlemen,  viii.  100. 

Olympians  exchange  snuff-boxes,  iii. 
110. 

Olympic  games,  ii.  193  ;  viii.  227. 

Omar,  Caliph,  i.  239. 

Omar  Khayyam  quoted,  vi.  11  ;  viii. 
231 ;  ix.  247. 

Omission,  art  of,  vi.  279. 

Omnipotence,  attribute,  x.  322. 

Omnipresence,  ii.  99 ;  iii.  47 ;  x.  192. 

Omniscience,  ii.  263,  270  ;  x.  177. 

One,  eternal,  ii.  253  ;  ever-blessed,  70. 

One-hour  rule,  iii.  235. 

Opaline,  nature  of  beauty,  ii.  170 ;  iii. 
178. 

Open  secret  of  the  world,  x.  228. 

Opinions,  confession  of  character,  vi. 
214  ;  falsehood  shows  first  as  indif 
ference,  x.  209 ;  few,  iii.  51,  235, 
256 ;  not  final  or  organic,  iv.  168  ; 
vi.  55,  136,  193  ;  vii.  221 ;  x.  110, 
194,  220,  226;  xi.  106;  should  be 


322 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


native,  ii.  51 ;  vii  214,  261 ;  viii.  97, 

287  ;  x.  136,  220 ;  xi.  197,  269,  354 ; 

public,  iii.  97;  vi.  37,  149,  156;  xi. 

106,  207,  280;  react,  ii.  106,   138; 

variety  of,  an  advantage,  xi.  360. 
Opium,  distilled  into  all  disaster,  iii. 

51 ;  iv.  28. 
Opportunities,  the  atoms  of  which  the 

world  is  made,  viii.  294. 
Opposition,  is  opportunity,  i.  146 ;  ii. 

52 ;  vii.  96. 
Optical,  life  practical,  not  optical,  x. 

Optimism,  ii.  117,  129,  215  ;  vii.  291 ; 

viii.  134 ;  x.  336  ;  xii.  57. 
Oracles,  never  silent,  vii.   288;  viii. 

216 ;  ix.  16  ;  xii.  6. 
Oration,  public,  a  gag,  ii.  135,  144. 
Orator  ;  see  Eloquence,  i.  37,  103 ;  ii. 

135,  330 ;  vii.  52 ;  viii.  34,  292 ;  ix. 

238 ;  x.  55,  268  ;  xi.  294  ;  xii.  70  ;  his 

first  qualification  is  manliness,  viii. 

123. 

Orbit,  our  orbit  is  our  task,  iii.  269. 
Order,  equivalent  to  vast  amounts  of 

brute  force,  vi.  85 ;  ix.  65 ;  x.  81. 
Orestes,  iii.  83 ;  xii.  262. 
Organ,  silent,  chants  requiem,  ix.  129. 
Organic  actions  and  opinions,  vii.  13, 

251 ;  x.  440 ;  xi.  269  ;  361  ;  xii.  29. 
Organization,  i.    160 ;    iii.   176  ;    vii. 

240 ;  viii.  133 ;  creates  our  facts,  vi. 

295. 
Orientalism,    v.    245;  vii.  226 /;  x. 

171^. 
Originality,  iv.  181,  187,  189/;  v.  13; 

vii.  122,  275;  viii.  170,  191  //  xii. 

104.    See  Quotation. 
Ornament,  vi.  275. 
Ornithology,  vi.  267. 
Orpheus,  viii.  66 ;  x.  83,  443. 
Osman,  iii.  149. 
Ossian,  viii.  279. 
Otherness,  iv.  11,  49. 
Others,  working  for,  xii.  28. 
Ought,  meaning  of,  i.  121,  125. 
Our  own,  we  must  be,  ii.  201 ;  find,  iii. 

229. 

Ourselves,  all  things  allowed  to,  iii.  79. 
Over  -  estimation,     nobody     forgives 

over-estimation  of  themselves,  xii. 

27. 

OVER-SOUL,  THE,  ii.  249-278. 
Owen  Richard,  xii.  3,  70 ;  quoted,  viii. 

Owen,  Robert,  v.  246 ;  x.  326/ /  quoted, 

vi.  135. 

Owning,  some  men  born  to,  vi.  96. 
Oxygen,  x.  72. 
Oyster,  mends  his  shell  with  pearl,  ii. 

113. 


Pack-saddles  of  thought,  ii.  290. 
Pagiin  faculties,  xii.  55 ;  moralists,  x. 

115  ;  world,  iii.  236. 
Paganism  in  Christianity,  x.  110. 
Page,  William,  xii.  45. 
Pain,  superficial,  ii.  125  ;  vii.  250  ;  xii. 

270  ;  due  to  interference  of  organi 
zation,  vi.  295 ;  memory  sifts  out, 

xii.  76. 
Paint,  ground  into,  iii.  229 ;  iv.  45  ; 

great  is,  vi.  296 ;  x.  60 ;  can  make 

none  stick  but  our  own,  xii.  49. 
Painter,  paints  the  ideal,  ii.  313 /;  iii. 

327.    See,  also,  Artists. 
Painting,  ii.  216,  328,  330,  332.     See, 

also,  Art. 

Pairing-otf ,  vi.  237. 
Pairs,  thoughts  go  in,  vii.   217 ;  ix. 

109. 
Palestine,  value  in  universal  history, 

iv.  129  ;  xi.  153. 
Palm,  man  grows  like,  iv.  12. 
PAN,  ix.  309 ; i.  196 ;  iii.  44, 171  ; 

ix.  28,  56,  64,  67,  206,  279  ;  xii.  32. 
Pancrates,  fable,  x.  17. 
Pandora-box  of  marriage,  vi.  299. 
Panic,  vii.  248 ;  xii.  32,  266. 
Parables,  everything  spoken  in,  viii. 

71. 

Para  coats,  iii.  53. 
Paradise  only  for  good  men,  ii.  229; 

viii.  148  ;  xi.  222. 
Parasites,  huge  animals  nourish  huge 

parasites,  vi.  63. 
Parents    and    children,  vi.   218 ;   vii. 

103  ;  x.  136,  142. 
Parental  wit,  v.  293. 
Paris,  attractions  of,  xii.  89. 
PARK,  THE,  ix.  78. 
PARKER,  THEODORE,  xi.  265-274 ; 

x.  222,  225,  322,  324,  340,  344,  353. 
Parliament,    British,   x.   64 ;   xi.  158. 

See,  also,  House  of  Commons,  House 

of  Lords. 
Parlor,  and  kitchen,  vii.  232  ;  soldiers, 

ii.  75. 
Parnassus,  v.   231 ;   viii.   54,   225 ;   x. 

281,  314. 

Parody,  homage  of,  iii.  141. 
Parry,  Sir  Edward,  quoted,  v.  69. 
Parsimony  of  providence,  iv.  175. 
Parsons,  Antony,  v.  207  ;  vii.  258. 
Parthenon,  ii.  20 /;  ix.  16. 
Partialists,  iii.  68  ;  iv.  48  ;  need  of,  iii. 

233  ;  vi.  245 ;  xi.  352. 
Particulars,  iii.  186 ;  iv.  176 ;  vi.  153. 
Parties,   political,   i.  300;   ii.  55;  iii. 

61 ;  vi.  203,  244 ;  vii.  244 ;  x.  307  ; 

xi.  242,  328,  331,  398,  402,  406 ;  xii. 

51,  166;   ordinarily  parties  of  cir 
cumstance,    not    of    principle,    iii. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


323 


200 ;  necessity  of,  199 ;  228  ;  iv.  164 ; 
vi.  62,  93. 

Parts,  love  of,  ii.  207,  218  ;  iii.  223. 

Parts  of  speech,  metaphors,  i.  38. 

Pascal,  Blaise,  vii.  208 ;  viii.  217  ;  xii. 
153. 

Pass  for  what  we  are,  ii.  59 ;  x.  50. 

Passions,  iv.  136  ;  x.  91 ;  are  educators, 
vi.  242,  245  ;  powerful  spring,  24.6  ; 
vii.  305/;  viii.  15,  262. 

Passover,  Jewish,  xi.  14. 

PAST,  THE,  ix.  221  /; influence 

of,  i.  89,  93 ;  ii.  66,  81 ;  viii.  193 ;  x. 
243,  307  ;  involved  in  the  present, 
158,  255,  279,  284,  288 ;  ii.  120  ;  iii. 
69  ;  vi.  125,  223  ;  viii.  190  ;  unalter 
able,  ix.  221 ;  xii.  64,  73,  80. 

PAST  AND  PRESENT,  CARLYLE,  xii.  237- 
248. 

Pastoral  visits,  i.  143. 

Patience  with  the  delays  of  Nature,  i. 
114,  264,  334 ;  vii.  135  ;  x.  149,  152 /, 
437  ;  xi.  226  ;  xii.  47. 

Patmos  of  thought,  iii.  104. 

Patriarchal  government,  i.  354. 

Patriarchs,  action  of  the,  iii.  107. 

Patriotism,  i.  349 ;  v.  140 ;  vii.  30 ; 
viii.  165 ;  xi.  328,  420. 

Pattern,  men  all  of  one,  vii.  221. 

Patty-pan  enthusiasm,  vii.  63  ;  x.  343. 

Paulding,  Commodore,  xi.  255. 

Pauline  de  Viguier,  vi.  281  /. 

Pauperism,  i.  353. 

Pay,  always,  ii.  109. 

Peace,  nothing  can  bring  you  peace 
but  yourself,  ii.  87,  247 ;  in  proxim 
ity  to  war,  vi.  72;  xi.  194  ff;  300; 
peace-parties,  the  cant  of,  vii.  245  ; 
the  peace  principle  does  not  involve 
the  loss  of  manhood,  xi.  197,  300. 

Peacock,  wit,  ix.  55;  the  American 
eagle  must  be  less  of  a  peacock,  xi. 
412. 

Pedantry,  ii.  131 ;  painted  pedantry  of 
the  stage,  iv.  117,  197  ;  vi.  133  ;  viii. 
160 /. 

Peddlers,  vi.  141. 

Peeping,  Nature  hates,  iii.  62. 

Pendulum,  law  of  mind,  viii.  145. 

Penetration,  the  fatal  gift  of,  vi.  181. 

Pensioner,  man  a,  ii.  252. 

Pentecost  of  conversation,  ii.  289. 

People,  you  cannot  march  without  the, 
vi.  70. 

Pepper-corn  aims,  vi.  199;  informa 
tions,  i.  37. 

Pepys,  Samuel,  v.  107  ;  quoted,  vii. 
84. 

Perceforest,  ii.  37. 

Perception,  converted  into  character, 
i.  211;  to  our  involuntary  percep 


tions  a  perfect  faith  is  due,  ii.  65  ; 
viii.  25;  accurate,  214 //  iii.  135/; 
vii.  281 ;  x.  145 ;  outruns  talent,  283 ; 
145;  involves  will,  xii.  34,  36,  38, 
40. 

Perdition  to  be  safe,  ix.  243 ;  x.  98. 

Perfection,  i.  258  ;  iii;  228. 

Performance,  difference  of  law  and 
performance,  i.  173 ;  iii.  257 ;  iv. 
171 ;  v.  212,  291 ;  vi.  127,  206,  228  ; 
vii.  274,  276. 

Perhaps,  the  great,  viii.  176. 

Periodicity  of  evils,  vi.  242. 

Permanence,  a  word  of  degrees,  ii. 
282 /;  iv.  177;  our  delight  in,  viii. 
317. 

Perpendicularity,  ii.  217. 

PERPETUAL  FORCES,  x.  69-89. 

Persecution,  an  endeavor  to  cheat 
Nature,  ii.  115 ;  vi.  248. 

Perseverance,  vi.  262;  viii.  268;  x. 
67. 

PERSIAN  POETRY,  viii.  223-251. 

Persians,  architecture,  ii.  25;  copy 
right,  viii.  239;  day  of  lot,  226; 
moved  by  poetry,  227  ff;  proverbs, 
vi.  94,  307;  viii.  88;  temperament 
in  extremes,  226  ;  self  -  centred, 
102. 

Persistency,  i.  337  ;  iii.  43 ;  vi.  262 ;  x. 
80. 

Personal  ascendency,  i.  251 ;  iii.  121, 
197  ;  vi.  59,  182  ;  vii.  77,  80 /. 

Personality,  in  conversation,  see  under 
Conversation ;  dose  of,  xii.  49 ;  en 
ergy,  x.  264 ;  xii.  53 ;  miracles,  x. 
192 /;  power,  silence  destroys,  ii. 
319 ;  of  universe,  iv.  93.  See.  also, 
Bias. 

Personification,  viii.  27,  55. 

Persons,  of  the  age,  i.  252  ;  attraction, 
249 ;  iii.  225 ;  common  nature,  ii. 
260 ;  tie  of  persons  and  events,  vi. 
42  ;  faith  in,  i.  140  ;  acquaint  us  with 
the  impersonal,  ii.  260 ;  government 
is  to  protect,  iii.  193 ;  love's  world, 
ii.  165;  new,  187;  their  influence 
impossible  to  fix,  iii.  197-218;  and 
property,  193^;  regard  for,  ii.  260 ; 
soul  knows  no,  i.  129  ;  are  the  world 
to  persons,  250. 

Perspective  of  time,  i.  114  ;  of  persons, 
ii.  11 ;  iii.  36,  173  ;  vi.  39. 

Perspiration  of  age,  vi.  44. 

Pessimism,  ii.  117  ;  vii.  291 ;  viii.  134. 

Pestalozzi  quoted,  i.  113,  267. 

Peter,  the  mould  of  Peter,  i.  316  ;  vii. 
170 ;  xii.  53. 

Peter  Schlemihl,  x.  25. 

Peter's  dome,  ix.  16. 

PETER'S  FIELD,  ix.  302 /. 


324 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Petroleum,  viii.  137. 
Phalanstery,  England  a,  v.  37. 
Phalanx,  Fourier's,  i.  361 ;  iii.  251  /; 
x.  330,  335  ;  xii.  44. 

Phantasms,  iii.  138 ;  vi.  301,  304. 

Pharos  of  hope,  x.  61. 

Phenomenal,  the  pied  and  painted  im 
mensity,  ii.  189. 

Phenomenon,  nature  is,  i.  54;  viii. 
19 /. 

Phi  Beta  Kappa,  addresses,  i.  81  ff; 
viii.  197  ff;  poem,  ix.  312. 

Philadelphia,  situation  of,  v.  43. 

Philanthropy,  i.  266 ;  ii.  52 ;  xi.  205. 

Philip  II.  of  Spain,  anecdote  of,  i. 
371. 

Philip  of  Macedon,  iii.  257  ;  vii.  74. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  vi.  78. 

Philoctetes,  ii.  30. 

Philonic  inspiration,  viii.  174. 

PHILOSOPHER,  ix.  314. 

Philosophers,  not  at  all  times  philoso 
phers,  i.  285 ;  above  audience,  viii. 
206 ;  all  days  holy  to,  ii.  17  ;  Greek, 
x.  291 ;  do  not  joke,  viii.  153  ;  know 
only  laws,  xii.  37  ;  are  failed  poets, 
viii.  58  ;  xii.  13  ;  world  large  enough 
only  for  themselves,  vii.  13. 

Philosophy,  name  used  to  gild  crimes, 
ii.  73  ;  defining  is,  iv.  49 ;  not  to  be 
distilled,  i.  66 ;  cardinal  facts,  49  ; 
characteristic  of  modern  literature, 
xii.  180 ;  new,  quotes  old,  viii.  171  ; 
Plato  on,  iv.  60  ;  taught  by  poets,  i. 
59  ;  xii.  13 ;  price  paid  for,  vi.  133  ; 
problem  of,  i.  59 ;  rules  nations, 
viii.  67  ;  use  of,  xii.  6. 

Phocion,  ii.  245. 

Phoenicians,  xii.  24. 

Phoenixes,  iv.  37  ;  x.  160. 

Phosphorus,  statue,  iii.  28. 

Photometers,  we  are,  ii.  157. 

Phrenology,  iii.  56,  224;  vi.  14,  38, 
219  ;  vii.  106,  273  ;  x.  16,  318. 

Physicians,  view  of  religion,  iii.  55 /; 
of  mankind,  vi.  134  ;  viii.  160. 

Physics,  axioms  of,  translate  the  laws 
of  ethics,  i.  38,  44. 

Physiognomy,  v.  51 ;  vi.  213,  219;  vii. 
106. 

Piano  in  log-hut,  vii.  25. 

Pickerel-weed,  i.  24  ;  ix.  163. 

Pictorial,  all  is,  vi.  50. 

Picture-alphabet,  Swedenborg's,  iv. 
114,  123; 

Picture-books,  child's,  vii.  103 ;  the 
world,  man's,  viii.  15,  27. 

Picture-collector,  ii!.  65. 

Pictures,  ii.  332,  336/;  iii.  59 ;  vii.  126, 
290;  viii.  163;  in  streets,  ii.  332. 
See,  also,  Art,  Paintings. 


Picturesque,  hunting  for,  iii.  171. 

Pied  and  painted  immensity  of  the 
phenomenal,  ii.  189. 

Pied  Piper,  vii.  67  ;  viii.  178. 

Pierre  d'Auvergne  quoted,  viii.  61. 

Piety  of  the  Puritans,  i.  210  ;  x.  199  ; 
xii.  95  ;  an  essential  condition  of  sci 
ence,  viii.  217. 

Pilgrim  Fathers,  what  brought  them 
here,  i.  208/;  ix.  174.  See,'  also, 
Plymouth. 

Pilgrim,  the  scholar  a,  i.  154. 

Pillows  of  illusion,  vi.  297. 

Pilot,  beauty  the  pilot  of  the  young 
soul,  vi.  273,  275 ;  we  are  never 
without  a  pilot,  x.  189. 

Pindar,  ii.  20,  30;  vii.  56;  x.  242; 
quoted,  vii.  66  ;  viii.  192,  220,  238, 
279. 

Pine,  i.  163  //  ii.  59 ;  ix.  15 /,  43, 
45 /,  48 /.  144,  163,  198. 

Pinfold,  ii.  79  ;  x.  107. 

Pistareen  providence,  vi.  12. 

Pitiers  of  themselves,  vi.  252. 

Pitt,  William,  vi.  146,  174 ;  xi.  169. 

Place,  safe  in  our  own  place,  i.  295 ; 
ii.  49 ;  x.  50. 

Plagiarism,  iv.  43,  216  ;  viii.  183.  See, 
also,  Quotation. 

Plague,  depression  of  spirits  develops, 
vi.  251. 

Plain  dealing,  vi.  257. 

Plain  living  and  high  thinking,  vi. 
148 ;  vii.  113. 

Plainness,  English,  v.  Ill  ;  vi.  146. 

Planes  of  life,  vii.  292. 

Planters,  Southern,  xi.  135,  148,  155. 

Plants,  clock  of  summer  hours,  i.  24  ; 
iii.  44;  imperfect  men,  174  ;  iv.  152  ; 
xii.  22. 

PLATO,  iv.  39-87  ; all  may  think 

as,  ii.  9;  anticipates  all,  vii.  190; 
arrogance,  iv.  144  ;  banquet,  vii. 
191//  on  boys,  vi.  134 ;  on  children 
of  gods,  iii.  107  ;  Christianity  in, 
viii.  172  ;  as  parish  minced-meat,  x. 
221  ;  on  citizen's  duty,  vii.  64  ;  defi 
nitions,  i.  59  ;  iii.  34  ;  in  England, 
v.  226  /,  280  ;  an  enthusiasm,  x. 
289 ;  on  exercise,  viii.  265  ;  grand 
eur,  ii.  322  ;  images,  vii.  190  ;  inspi 
ration,  viii.  260;  literary,  iv.  74; 
gives  a  feeling  of  longevity,  ii.  256  ; 
modernness,  iv.  46 ;  on  poetry,  i. 
73  ;  ii.  37  ;  vii.  189  ;  viii.  192,  260  ;  x. 
286 ;  prayer,  xii.  213/;  purple  an 
cient,  247;  reading,  i.  94 ;  ii.  146  ; 
iii.  222,  246  ;  reading  him  wrapped 
in  a  cloak,  vii.  280  ;  on  rhetoric,  66  ; 
school,  ii.  287  ;  secret  doctrine,  139  ; 
self-reliance,  47  ;  Timeeus,  vii.  163  ; 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


325 


truth,  viii.  169 ;  value,  i.  156  ;  vii. 
189;  works,  best,  190;  women,  xi. 
338 ;  writing  a  barbarous  invention, 
xii.  71 ;  quoted,  viii.  169. 

Platonists,  iv.  42,  85  ;  v.  214  ;  vii.  193. 

Playmates  of  man,  vi.  89. 

Please,  thinking  to,  viii.  287. 

Pleased,  too  easily,  vii.  121 ;  viii.  69. 

Pleasure,  ii.  96,  100,  102,  215 ;  vi.  44, 
92,  295  ;  ix.  12  ;  x.  59,  290  ;  xii.  105, 
117. 

Plotinus,  ii.  237  ;  vii.  193  ;  430 ;  quoted, 
iv.  95 ;  x.  267. 

Ploughed  into  history,  i.  126. 

Plus,  condition,  vi.  59,  62,  69,  72. 

PLUTAKCH,  x.  275-304 ; on  Alex 
ander,  vi.  241  ;  xi.  181 ;  sacred  ani 
mals,  x.  19 ;  boys'  friend,  vi.  296  ; 
vii.  116  ;  our  debt  to  him  greater  than 
to  all  the  ancient  writers,  ii.  234  ; 
Essays,  vii.  191 ;  heroes,  ii.  84,  234  ; 
vii.  191 ;  on  inspiration,  viii.  269 ; 
on  jests,  157  ;  on  matter,  x.  267,  290 ; 
in  modern  literature,  xii.  179  ;  Mor 
als,  vii.  191 ;  oracles,  251 ;  Pericles, 
vi.  75 ;  on  prediction,  viii.  269  ;  on 
superstition,  x.  19;  Timoleon,  ii. 
127  ;  xii.  159  ;  value,  i.  156  ;  ii.  234  ; 
vii.  182  ;  xii.  177. 

Plymouth  Colony,  xii.  92. 

Pocket,  memory  not  a,  xii.  65. 

Poem,  made  by  its  argument,  not  by 
its  metres,  iii.  15,  223;  is  poet's 
mind,  ii.  22;  the  world  a,  iv.  116, 
120. 

Poems,  names  which  are,  v.  57.  See 
Poet,  Poetry. 

POET,  THE,  iii.  7-45 ;  ix.  253-278.  Also, 
MERLIN,  ix.  106-110. 

Poet-priest  wanted,  iv.  209. 

Poet,  Poets :  no  deep  advantage,  iii. 
266 ;  all  men,  i.  164 ;  analysis,  xii. 
13 ;  authority,  i.  201 ;  man  of  beauty, 
iii.  10 ;  belief  in  the  importance  of 
what  he  has  to  say,  180  ;  iv.  181 ; 
viii.  192,  217;  cheerful,  iv.  205; 
coming,  xii.  199 ;  the  complete  man, 
iii.  11  ;  as  craftsman,  vi.  151 ;  all 
days  holy  to,  ii.  17  ;  detaches,  330 ; 
dream,  218 ;  electricity  of,  xii.  226, 
241 ;  early  English,  vi.  198 ;  favor 
itism  shown  to,  x.  257 ;  five  great, 
ix.  191 ;  passes  for  a  fool,  iii.  44  ; 
their  genius  a  larger  imbibing  of  the 
common  heart,  ii.  270  ;  Milton  as  to 
their  habits,  xii.  159;  heart  in  the 
right  place,  vii.  288  ;  need  not  be 
hermits,  i.  169 ;  bad  husbands,  vi. 
112 ;  idealism,  i.  56 ;  imagery,  vi. 
289  ;  jealousy  of  present  objects,  iii. 
184  ;  sense  of  justice,  x.  179  ;  land 


scape  owned  by,  i.  14  ;  lawgivers,  ii. 
218  ;  liberating  gods,  iii.  33-35  ;  love 
the  test  of,  ix.  243;  men-making, 
viii.  278 ;  the  trainer,  iii.  26 ;  deals 
with  things  nearest,  i.  78  ;  viii.  193  ; 
and  philosopher,  i.  59 ;  xii.  13 ; 
gives  a  platform  outside  of  daily 
life,  ii.  291 ;  iv.  91 ;  does  not  too 
much  respect  his  writing,  vii.  174  ; 
rhapsodist,  i.  203  ;  fabulous  picture 
of  society,  iii.  168 ;  must  not  spin 
too  fine,  ii.  196  ;  universal  language, 
i.  103 ;  a  beautiful  woman  is  a 
practical  poet,  vi.  281  ;  xi.  343 ; 
worldliness,  x.  252. 

Poetry,  essential  aim,  v.  243;  Arab 
fondness,  viii.  228;  is  ascension 
into  a  higher  state,  iii.  28 ;  beauty, 
223 ;  vii.  49 ;  and  fact,  books  its  inspi 
ration,  viii.  279 ;  and  civilization,  x. 
393 ;  cleanses,  viii.  278  ;  of  columns, 
vi.  279  ;  creation  in,  viii.  42  ;  modern 
English,  v.  238  /,  242  ff;  essential 
qualities,  xii.  226 ;  to  the  wise,  fact 
is,  i.  78;  of  fancy,  ii.  104;  found, 
not  made,  vii.  53 ;  must  be  good 
sense,  xii.  226;  best  history  is,  i. 
73;  feeling  of  the  infinite  in,  xii. 
184  /;  source  of  its  inspiration, 
iii.  Ill ;  speaks  to  the  intelligent, 
viii.  238 ;  in  common  life,  iii.  220 ; 
magic  influence,  xii.  177 ;  of  man 
ners,  vi.  183  ;  measure,  of  poetic 
power,  xii.  39 ;  mystery,  ii.  171 ; 
free  necessity,  viii.  53 ;  pain  changed 
to,  xii.  271 ;  Pindar's  rule,  viii.  238  ; 
and  prudence,  ii.  218;  refreshes, 
256;  is  seeing  that  the  bodies 
of  things  pass  away  and  their 
spirit  subsists,  viii.  22 ;  revival,  i. 
84 ;  simplicity,  viii.  122  ;  of  society, 
xii.  227  ;  success,  ii.  171 ;  in  a  chest 
of  tea,  viii.  266;  Thoreau's,  x. 
442  ;  shows  unity  by  variety,  iv.  56  ; 
unwritten,  i.  162 ;  vi.  183 ;  viii.  184  ; 
of  vice  and  disease,  xii.  227 ;  in 
whistle,  vii.  280 ;  xii.  40 ;  every 
word  necessary,  53 ;  for  the  young, 
x.  141 ;  sempiternal  youth  of,  iv.  86. 
See,  also,  Verse. 

POETRY  AND  IMAGINATION,  viii.  7-75. 

POETRY,  PERSIAN,  viii.  223-251 

Poisons,  our  medicines,  vi.  245;  xii. 
51. 

Point  of  view,  change  in,  i.  55  f. 

Polarity,  i.  99,  111 ;  ii.  94 ;  iii.  96 ; 
viii.  12. 

Pole  star,  in  the  constellation  Harp, 
i.  84. 

Police,  in  citizen's  clothes,  vi.  165, 
212 //  xii.  65. 


326 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Politeness.     See  Behavior,  Manners. 

Political  economy,  v.  97,  162 ;  based 
on  the  laws  of  nature,  vi.  100,  101, 
214 ;  vii.  137,  147  ;  viii.  40 ;  xi.  402. 

Politicians,  iii.  209;  vi.  237;  x.  50; 
xi.  208,  401. 

POLITICS,  iii.  40,  91,  189-211 ;  ix.  230  ; 

i.  240;  ii.  86,  248;  iii.  243; 

vi.  18,  63,  66;  vii.  155,  159,  244; 
viii.  165,  220  /;  ix.  230;  xi.  196, 
329  ff,  351,  353,  397  /,  402,  403 ; 
institutions  cannot  be  voted  in  and 
out,  iii.  192. 

Polycrates,  ii.  108. 

Pompeii,  tombs  at,  viii.  309. 

Poor,  the,  i.  20,  229,  241 ;  their  fancies 
of  the  rich,  iii.  168,  183 ;  vii.  112, 
115  ;  xi.  408.  See,  also,  Poverty. 

Pope,  Alexander,  i.  Ill ;  ii.  269 ;  v. 
242 ;  quoted,  v.  94,  99 ;  viii.  264. 

Popguns,  i.  103. 

Poppies,  nature's,  iv.  28  ;  viii.  280. 

Popular  government,  vi.  63. 

Popular  standards,  ii.  73. 

Popularity  is  for  dolls,  vi.  156. 

Population,  vi.  237 ;  vii.  145  ff. 

Porcelain,  nature's,  iii.  127  ;  x.  37. 

Porphyry  quoted,  vi.  156,  235. 

Porter,  Jane,  novels,  xii.  234. 

Portraits  should  idealize,  ii.  327. 

Positive,  choose  what  is  positive,  vii. 
289 ;  xii.  56. 

Possibilities,  the  great  realities,  i.  212 ; 
ii.  75, 286 ;  viii.  133  ;  iv.  36. 

Posterity,  we  build  for,  i.  354. 

Post-office  superseded,  i.  364 ;  meter 
of  civilization,  vii.  26. 

Postpone,  we  are  not  to  wish  and  post 
pone,  iii.  63. 

Posture-master,  nature  the  best,  viii. 
82. 

Potencies,  men  made  of,  viii.  133. 

Potomac,  xii.  88. 

Pound,  always  a  pound,  iii.  196 ;  x. 
40. 

Poverty,  consists  in  feeling  poor,  vii. 
115;  viii.  162;  demoralizes,  vi.  90; 
the  ornament  of  greatness,  ii.  240  ; 
gymnastics,  iii.  244;  vi.  246;  vii. 
117  ;x.  128  ;xi.  222. 

POWER,  vi.  53-81 ; needs  concen 
tration,  xii.  53 ;  can  be  generous,  xi. 
421 ;  the  first  good,  viii.  258  ;  luxury 
of,  xi.  148  ;  practical,  vii.  240  ;  xii. 
44;  a  certain  quantity  belongs  to 
a  certain  quantity  of  faculty;  he 
who  wants  more  must  truckle  for 
it,  vii.  253  ;  x.  50 ;  xi.  168 ;  makes 
its  own  place,  x.  50 ;  the  essential 
measure  of  right,  ii.  70,  87,  90,  111 ; 
iii.  69,  99,  267  ;  iv.  175  ;  vi.  92. 


Practice,  and  theory,  i.  95,  211,  238  : 
iv.  170,  253;  v.  235;  x.  149,  226, 
256,  266  ;  is  nine  tenths,  vi.  78. 

Practical  men,  xii.  9. 

Praise,  less  safe  than  blame,  ii.  114, 
274  ;  iii.  75,  102,  105  ;  vi.  226,  234  ; 
ix.  116  ;  xi.  271 ;  the  foolish  face  of, 
ii.  56  ;  shows  us  what  we  have  not, 
209. 

PRAYER,  ix.  299. 

PRAYERS,  xii.  212-219. 

in  all  action,  ii.  77 ;  adornment 

of  man,  i.  205  ;  answers  to,  vi.  12  ; 
not  brave  or  manly,  ii.  76  ;  church, 
i.  137;  a  church,  xi.  222;  a  con 
descension,  v.  211 ;  defined,  ii.  76  ; 
false  prayers,  76 ;  of  former,  77 ; 
granted,  a  curse,  vi.  49;  itera 
tion  in,  55  ;  Jewish,  v.  214  ;  over 
poor  land,  xi.  403 ;  beginning  of 
literature,  viii.  55;  love  prays,  ii. 
176;  of  others,  hurtful,  276;  to 
ourselves,  granted,  vi.  43  ;  are 
prophets,  262 ;  of  Quakers  before 
meals,  viii.  85 ;  Dr.  Ripley's,  x.  362 
/;  show  lack  of  self-reliance,  ii.  76  ; 
shipmaster's,  x.  19  ;  study  of  truth, 
i.  77  ;  that  do  not  uplift,  but  sniite 
us,  135  ;  unmanly,  ii.  76  ;  disease  of 
will,  78  ;  of  youth,  iii.  193. 

PREACHER,    THE,    x.    207-228; i. 

133-148  ;  ii.  56 ;  vii.  93  ;  viii.  118. 

Preaching,  the  office  the  first  in  the 
world,  i.  134;  do  not  preach,  ix. 
244 ;  good  preaching,  vii.  93 ;  xii. 
238. 

Pre-cantations,  things  in,  iii.  29. 

Precedent,  love  of,  v.  109;  vii.  275; 
xi.  279. 

Precisians,  iii.  136. 

Premonitions,  viii.  216,  293. 

Presence,  doctrine  of,  i.  206,  212 ;  vii. 
215. 

Presence  of  mind,  vi.  76 ;  viii.  22,  123 ; 
xii.  72. 

Present,  the  present  infinite,  ii.  266, 
278 ;  and  past,  i.  284  ;  ii.  67  ;  iii.  66, 
102,  164;  vi.  223;  vii.  18,  170,  284, 
286 ;  viii.  194  ;  ix.  69,  242,  288 ;  xii. 
80.  See,  also,  Time,  To-day. 

Presentiments,  1.  154 ;  ii.  205,  277  ;  x. 
15 ;  xi.  223. 

Pretension,  i.  173,  179;  ii.  150;  iii. 
100,  128,  130 ;  v.  Ill ;  vi.  144. 

Pretty  people  tiresome,  vi.  284. 

Price,  the  highest  price  for  a  thing  is 
to  ask  for  it,  ii.  109 ;  everything  has 
its  price,  111 ;  iii.  52 ;  vi.  105,  107  ; 
vii.  107 ;  x.  51. 

Pride,  ii.  107,  112;  economical,  vi. 
111. 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


327 


Priestcraft,  ii.  32. 
Priesthood,  x.  258. 
Prince  Rupert's  drop,  the  American 

Union  a,  xi.  410. 
Principles,  i.  144,  238,  263,  2G5,  304  ; 

iii.  96,  200 ;  v.  88 ;  vii.  33 ;  xi.  105, 

199 /,  398;  xii.  109. 
Printing,  xii.  71. 
Prisoners,  v.  8  ;  vii.  305  ;  x.  81. 
Prisons,  every  thought  a  prison,   ii. 

316;  iii.  36,  55. 
Privacy  of  storm,  ix.  42. 
Private  ends  and  uses,  viii.  325;  x.  85, 

94,  96. 
Prizes,  of  virtue,  iv.  136 ;  x.  61 ;  the 

high  prize  of  life,  vi.  253. 
PROBLEM,  THE,  ix.  15-17. 
Proclus,  reading  of,  iii.  222 ;  quoted, 

19,  34  ;  vi.  287. 
Production,  in  nature  and  thought,  ii. 

338  ;  iv.  91 ;  vi.  85. 
Profession,  choice  of,  ii.    132  /.    See 

Occupations,  Trades. 
Profits  that  are  profitable,  ii.  146. 
Profligacy,  vi.  110. 
Progenitors,   qualities  of,  potted,  vi. 

Progress,  i.  159,  204,  249,  283 ;  ii.  117, 

268,  297  ;  vii.  36  ;  viii.  330  ;  xi.  175, 

179,  216. 
Projectile  impulse  in  nature,  iii.  177, 

185. 
Prometheus,  ii.  33  /,   103;   ix.   157, 

168. 
Promises,  ii.  222  ;  iii.  55,  182 ;  iv.  176  ; 

viii.  321 ;  ix.  81. 
Property,  iii.  193-198;  in  its  present 

tenures,  degrading,  i.  261,  289  ;  iii. 

195 ;  vi.  98,  104,  151 ;  vii.  106 ;   x. 

128, 183  ;  xi.  184  ;  good  always  moral, 

i.  43 ;  iii.  221,  249 ;  iv.  146 ;  covers 

great  spiritual  facts,  ii.  11 ;  iii.  193  ; 

v.   87,   140,   159;  x.   334;   xi.   402; 

timid,  i.  223,  228 ;  ii.  85,  108. 
Prophets,  iii.  180,  235 ;  viii.  153,  258  ; 

xii.  8,  42. 
Proportion  impossible  to  men,  iii.  223  ; 

x.  170. 
Propriety,  vi.   43;    Gibraltar    of,    v. 

110. 

Proprium  of  Swedenborg,  viii.  290. 
Prose,  in  Englishman,  v.  110 ;    God 

speaks  not  in,  viii.  17 ;  of  life,  iii. 

221 ;  of  nature,  ii.  327. 
PROSPECTS,  i.  70-80. 
Prosperity,  man  not  born  for  prosper 
ity,  i.  209;  ii.  108  //  x.  60 ;  a  rush 

of    thoughts    the    only  prosperity, 

viii.  258. 

Protection,  iii.  244;  vi.  214 /,  247 /. 
Protestants,  x.  424 ;  xii.  104. 


Proteus,  i.  48;  ii.  11,  35;  iii.  172:  iv. 

50,  117,  150,  260 ;  vi.  292,  297. 
Proverbs,  the  wisdom  of  nations,  i. 

38 ;  ii.  105 /;  iii.  220  ;  quoted,  i.  86  ; 

ii.  224  /,  294 ;  iii.  84 ;  iv.  218 ;  vi. 

208,  244,  251 ;  viii.  110,  176. 
Providence,  terrific  benefactor,  i.  122  ; 

iii.  267 ;  v.  214 ;  vi.  12,  35,  194 ;  x. 

195 ;  xi.  225,  230,  314,  424 ;  playing 

providence,  v.  290 ;  xii.  28,  41,  51 ; 

particular  providence,  x.  360;  pat 
ronizing  providence,  xii.  51. 
Provocation,  not  instruction,  is  what 

we  receive  from  others,  i.  126,  131, 

157. 
PRUDENCE,  ii.  207-227 ;  i.  242  /; 

iv.  146,  226,  235;  is  concentration, 

vi.  74 ;  low,  i.  178 ;  ii.  174,  234,  237, 

293 /;  should  coincide  with  poetry, 

218  ;  virtue  of  the  senses,  210  ;  vii. 

108 /;  x.  21. 
Psyche,  x.  178. 
Public,  an  eternal,  ii.  145. 
Public  opinion,  i.  367  ;  vii.  274  ;  x.  40  ; 

xi.  197,  207,  404. 
Public  speaking,  i.  161 ;  ii.  135,  145  ; 

iii.  181 ;  v.  125 ;  vi.  78  ;  vii.  64. 
Public  spirit,  iii.  204;    viii.   100;   x. 

94. 

Public  worship,  i.  139 /. 
Pudency  of  friendship,  vi.  259 ;  of  life, 

iii.  70. 

Pugnacity,  interest  in,  xi.  184. 
Pulpit,  i.  135 ;  x.  113,  222,  224.     See, 

also,  Clergy,  Preacher. 
Pulses,  man  lives  by,  iii.  70 ;  vi.  33, 58 ; 

viii.  49. 
Pump,  fetched  with  dirty  water,  if 

clean  is  not  to  be  had,  vi.  62. 
Pumpkins,  men  ripen  like,  iii.  234. 
Punctuality,  iii.  136 ;  iv.  226,  235 ;  vii. 

109 ;  x.  170. 
Punishment    and    crime    grow   from 

the  same  root,  ii.  100 ;  iv.  81 ;  xii. 

65. 

Purgatory,  x.  105. 
Puritans,  i.  140,  320;  x.  234,  359;  xii. 

165 ;  we  praise  them  because  we  do 

find  in  ourselves  the  spirit  to  do  the 

like,  110. 
Purpose  as  necessity,  ii.  74 ;  iii.  223 ; 

vi.  254 ;  vii.  96,  239. 
Purse,  great  depend  not  on,  vii.  112. 
Pursuit,  heaven  in,  iii.  185. 
Push,  aboriginal,  iii.  177  ;  vi.  46. 
Pyrrhonism,  ii.  131,  296. 
Pythagoras  quoted,  vi.  149 ;  xii.  212. 

Quackery  in  education,  x.  152. 
Quadruped,  age,  vi.  158 ;  240 ;  iv.  165 ; 
law,  xi.  214. 


328 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Quake,  if  I  quake,  what  matters  it  at 

what  ?  iii.  97. 
Quakers,  iv.  134 ;  viii.  85,  292  ;  xi.  138, 

346. 

Qualities  abide,  iv.  37 ;  vi.  15. 
Quarantine,  of  calamities,  xi.  226 ;  of 

nature,  iii.  165  ;  of  society,  i.  301. 
Quarry  of  life,  i.  99,  247. 
Quatrains,  ix.  238-244. 
Queen  of    Sheba  in  Persian  poetry, 

viii.  229. 

Questions,  courage  to  ask,  viii.  94. 
Quetelet,  vi.  15 ;  quoted,  22,  note, 
Quietist,  rapture,  ii.  265. 
Quincy,  President,  vii.  297  ;  viii.  271 ; 

xii.  103,  111. 

Quintilian  quoted,  xii.  68. 
QUOTATION  AND  ORIGINALITY,  viii.  167- 

194 ; ii.  67 ;  iv.  44 ;  vii.  275. 

Rabelais,  vi.  240 ;  xi.  347,  367;  quoted, 
viii.  176. 

Races  of  men,  v.  47-74, 137  ;  vi.  13,  21, 
39,  46;  xi.  34,  172 /. 

Radiance  of  personal  charm,  ii.  172 ; 
vi.  286. 

Radicalism,  is  idealism,  i.  301;  iii. 
258  ;  vi.  18.  See,  also,  Conservative 
and  Radical. 

Ragged  front  of  life,  ii.  234. 

Rag-merchant,  nature  a,  vi.  249. 

Railroads,  a  benefaction  vastly  exceed 
ing  any  intentional  philanthropy,  vi. 
243 ;  i.  19,  55 ;  not  for  their  build 
ers,  354 ;  nature  adopts,  iii.  23 ;  how 
built,  vi.  93  ;  aesthetic  value  of,  142, 
243 ;  vii.  154 ;  viii.  204 ;  x.  217  ;  xii. 
249. 

Rain,  the  hermitage  of  nature,  i.  169  ; 
ii.  215. 

Rainbow,  ix.  80,  81, 112,  166,  208,  281; 
the  eye  makes,  vi.  50. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  iv.  19,  164. 

Rambouillet,  Hotel  de,  vii.  229;  xi. 
346. 

Rameau,  Diderot's,  viii.  163. 

Raphael,  ii.  217,  337  ;  viii.  163,  208. 

Rarey,  John  S.,  viii.  258. 

Rashness,  no  heaven  for,  ii.  192. 

Rate,  man  sets  his  own,  ii.  143. 

Rat  and  mouse  revelation,  vi.  200. 

Reaction,  law  of,  ii.  123 ;  iv.  81. 

Reading,  i.  89-95;  vii.  185-188,  210; 
viii.  170,  279;  x.  141,  154;  read 
proudly,  ii.  12,  63,  141,  155,  263  ;  iii. 
222 ;  viii.  187.  See,  also,  Books. 

Realists,  i.  153  ;  iii.  132  ;  vi.  Ill ;  viii. 
103.  See,  also,  NOMINALIST  AND 
REALIST. 

Reality,  elemental  is  moral  sentiment, 
i.  274 ;  iii.  52,  58,  130,  218,  226 ;  iv. 


144 ;  v.  116,  180  ;  we  are  to  be  face 
to  face  with,  x.  204,  459 ;  xi.  222 ; 
xii.  50 ;  the  first  thing  that  man  de 
mands  of  man,  iii.  130. 

Reason,  i.  33;  and  sense,  54,  102,  125, 
128,  176,  280  ;  iv.  27, 170  ;  vi.  91 ;  vii. 
53,  171 ;  infinite,  i.  167 ;  vii.  95 ; 
deals  with  wholes,  not  with  degrees 
or  fractions,  viii.  51. 

Receptivity  enriches,  i.  200  ;  ii.  311 ; 
vii.  284;  viii.  280,  295;  x.  83;  de 
mands  outlet,  iii.  54. 

Recesses  of  life,  i.  236. 

Recluse,  the,  his  thoughts  of  society, 
iii.  227,  230 ;  vii.  17. 

Rectitude,  wisdom  does  not  reach  a 
literal  rectitude,  i.  145,  205,  286  ;  ii. 
117;  iii.  98,  158;  genius  takes  its 
rise  from,  iv.  139 ;  vi.  207 ;  safe 
guards  of,  x.  86. 

Red  Jacket  quoted,  vii.  170,  309. 

Red  slayer,  ix.  170. 

Redeemer,  man  a  Redeemer,  i.  306 ; 
xii.  198. 

Reed,  Sampson,  quoted,  xii.  76. 

Refinement  entails  loss  of  substance, 
ii.  84. 

Reflection,  ours  the  age  of,  i.  108; 
thinking  prior  to,  ii.  305,  308. 

Reformation,  licentiousness  treads  on 
the  heels  of,  ii.  33. 

REFORMER,  MAN  THE,  i.  215-244. 

REFORMERS,  NEW  ENGLAND,  iii.  237- 
270. 

Reforms  must  construct,  iii.  61,  100, 
248  ;  iv.  163  ;  dangers,  x.  119  ;  must 
begin  with  education,  vi.  9,  136 ; 
not  to  be  pursued  as  end,  i.  204,  248, 
256,  271  ;  ii.  255,  295 ;  facility  of, 
in  America,  xi.  411  ;  must  begin  at 
home,  iii.  248  ;  pedantry  of,  249 ; 
the  soul  of,  i.  263  ;  first  a  thought 
in  one  man,  ii.  10. 

Refrain  in  songs,  viii.  50. 

Regrets  are  false  prayers,  ii.  77 ;  the 
voices  of  debility,  xii.  253. 

Relations,  personal,  ii.  142/;  iii.  53 ; 
vii.  19;  of  things,  175,  231,  284; 
viii.  88. 

Relative  and  absolute,  iv.  1&. 

Religion,  every  act  should  be  reli 
gious,  vii.  128 ;  ages,  xi.  333  ;  Amer 
ican;  x.  203;  antidote  to  the  com 
mercial  spirit,  xii.  98  ;  base  tone,  ii. 
93 ;  changes,  viii.  311 ;  x.  105,  113, 
199,  209,  214 ;  charm  of  old,  i.  209 ; 
xi.  269  ;  of  the  present  day  child 
ish,  vi.  199,  228 ;  glozes  over  crime, 
x.  114 ;  a  crab  fruit,  vi.  205 ;  not  to 
be  crystallized,  v.  215 ;  the  flower 
ing  of  culture,  vi.  196  ;  xii.  98  ;  in 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


329 


daily  life,  iv.  118  ;  x.  191 ;  decay,  vi. 
196,  200,  204 ;  x.  112,  19G,  210  ;  xi. 
333 ;  in  disguise  in  the  barbarous 
mind,  y.  207;  vi.  198;  xii.  94;  dis 
putes,  ii,  225  ;  x.  307  ;  emancipator, 
xii.  105 ;  is  emotion  in  presence  of 
universal  mind,  x.  190  ;  endogenous, 
v.  215 ;  enthusiasm,  ii.  264  ;  essence 
lost  by  reliance  on  institutions,  i. 
303  ;  and  ethics,  62  ;  vi.  199  ;  x. 
203;  everywhere,  xi.  388;  will  not 
fall  out,  vi.  196  ;  false  were  once 
true,  x.  104  ;  disuse  of  forms, 
108 ;  of  future,  201  ;  geographical, 
195  ;  growth  alarms,  118,  214  ; 
formal  religion  a  hoax,  viii.  158  ;  x. 
303  ;  xi.  271  ;  truly  human,  333, 
391 ;  not  to  be  imported,  x.  Ill  ;  in 
dividualism  in,  118;  inexpugnable, 
vi.  204 ;  x.  117  ;  influence,  i.  124  ;  v. 
206 ;  xii.  99  ;  must  be  intellectual,  vi. 
229 ;  an  iron  belt,  x.  196  ;  liberal, 
116,  196 ;  morbidness,  iv.  95 ;  nar-  I 
rowness,  x.  107 ;  xi.  388  ;  national, 
v.  205  ;  x.  106 ;  natural,  i.  62 ;  x. 
200 ;  need,  117  ;  to  say  there  is  no 
religion  is  like  saying  there  is  no 
sun,  vi.  204 ;  estimated  by  numbers, 
ii.  276 ;  object,  x.  214 ;  not  occa 
sional,  vii.  128  ;  opinions,  viii.  201 ; 
x.  215  ;  great  men  its  patrons,  iv. 
10 ;  is  sometimes  pew-holding,  x. 
220  ;  power,  i.  124  ;  v.  206  ;  xii.  99  ; 
primeval,  x.  280  ;  and  property,  i. 
302/;  is  the  public  nature,  vi.  196  ; 
quoted,  x.  Ill ;  reaction,  196  ;  the 
most  refining  of  all  influences,  xii. 
99 ;  of  revelation,  i.  9  ;  revivals,  x. 
268;  revolution  in,  vi.  200;  viii. 
311 ;  parodied  by  ritual,  158  ;  science 
the  source  of  revolution,  x.  317 ; 
search  for,  vi.  195  ;  xi.  333  ;  depen 
dent  on  seasons,  iii.  55  ;  secret,  v. 
220  ;  sects,  x.  113  ;  and  self-depen 
dence,  xi.  389 ;  shallowuess,  x.  220  ; 
surface-action,  216  ;  symbolism  in, 
leads  to  error,  iii.  38  ;  test,  x.  220  ; 
theatrical,  v.  219  ;  time-serving,  i. 
302 /;  of.  to-day,  vi.  204  ;  traditions 
losing  hold,  x.  113,  209  ;  universal, 
vi.  196;  x.  215;  xi.  388;  cannot 
rise  above  votary,  vi.  196 ;  war  in 
name  of,  xi.  180 ;  welcomed,  vii. 
283  ;  and  woman,  xi.  345  ;  of  world, 
391.  See,  also,  Christianity,  The 
ology. 

Remedial  forces,  ii.  121 ;  x.  149. 

Remember,  you  shall  not,  iii.  69. 

Reminiscence,  Plato's  doctrine  of,  iv. 
84,  94. 

Remoteness  of  persons,  ii.  188. 


Renan,  E.,  quoted,  viii.  104 ;  x.  235. 
Renovator  must  himself  be  renovated, 

iii.  248. 

Renunciations  of  the  poet,  iii.  44. 
Repetitions,    no    repetitions    in    the 

world,  ii.  82. 

Reporter,  the  writer  as,  iv.  251. 
Repose,  choose  between  truth  and,  ii. 

318. 

Representatives,  what  they  must  rep 
resent,  x.  52^. 

REPUBLIC,  FORTUNE  OP,  i.  393-425. 
Republics,  iii.  202  ;  xi.  400 /. 
;  Repudiation,  you  cannot  repudiate  but 

once,  i.  367. 
Reputations,   decline   of,   i.    254 ;   iv. 

36  ;  unaccounted  for,  iii.  89  ;  do  not 

be  impatient  of  false  reputations, 

269  ;  slavery  to,  vii.  158,  307. 
Resemblances,  nature  full  of,  i.  48 // 

ii.  20  ;  iv.  119  ;  viii.  13. 
Residuum,  unknown,  in  every  man,  ii. 

286. 
Resistance,  sweet  satisfaction  of,  xii. 

107. 
RESOURCES,  viii.  131-148  ; i.  146, 

154 ;  viii.  199  ;  x.  72,  78 ;  xii.  23. 
Respect,  men  respectable  only  as  they 

respect,  x.  197. 

Responsibility,  need  of,  xi.  199,  273. 
Rest,  viii.  267  ;  xii.  55 ;  by  alternation 

of    employment,   viii.  144;   motion 

and,  iii.  173,  186. 
Restlessness,   our    education  fosters, 

ii.  81 ;  viii.  26  ;  x.  227,  234. 
Results,  respect  for,  v.  212. 
Retirement   need  not  be  unsocial,  i. 

323;  vi.  149;  vii.  215 ;  x.  227. 
Retribution,  what    is,  ii.  99  /,    117; 

x.  186,  190 ;  xi.  225. 
Retz,    Cardinal  de,  quoted,   vi.   175, 

285 ;  viii.  186. 

Revelation,  not  at  an  end,  i.  132 ;  dis 
closure   of  the  soul,   ii.   263,    265, 

276  ;  vi.  239  ;  x.  114 ;  persons  on  the 

eve  of  a,  vi.  129. 
Reverence,    for    the    past,   ii.   57 ;   a 

great  part  of  friendship,  200 ;  due 

from  man  to  man,  63 ;  vii.  20,  239 ; 

for  what  is  above  us,  x.  198. 
Revision  of  our  manner  of  life,  ii.  152. 
Revivals,   religious,  ii.  265 ;  vi.    200 ; 

x.  268. 
Revolutions   come  from  new  ideas,  i. 

271 ;  ii.  10  ;  x.  238,  242,  309  ;  xi.  164, 

188,  320,  398,  412. 
Reward,  cannot  be  escaped,  ii.  100  ;  iii. 

268 ;  vi.  220,  223 ;  viii.  287 ;  x.  190. 
Reynolds,   Sir    Joshua,   quoted,    viii. 

275. 
RHEA,  To,  ix.  18^'. 


330 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Rhetoric,  power  to  detach  and  mag 
nify,  ii.  330  ;  iv.  60 ;  vi.  279  ;  vii.  66 ; 

x.  164,  315 ;  xii.  119. 
RHODORA,  THE,  ix.  39. 
Rhyme,  in  nature,  iii.  29 ;  iv.  107  ;  vi. 

49 ;  vii.  56 ;  viii.  47-58  ;  ix.  53,  255  ; 

xii.  207. 

Rhythm  of  nature,  iv.  135. 
Rich  men,  i.  228,  233,  240  /;  ii.  12 ; 

who  is  rich?  iii.  98,  148,  168,  183, 

198;  iv.  10,  59;  vi.  114,  247,   252; 

vii.  115,  137,   163;  viii.  98;  x.  48; 

the   rich   man  is  he  in  whom  the 

people  are  rich,  vi.  96.    See,  also, 

Riches,  Wealth. 

Richard  of  Devizes,  quoted,  vi.  198. 
Riches,  i.  226,  237,  298  ;  man   needs 

to  be  rich,  vi.  85-88.    See,  also,  Rich 

People,  Wealth. 
Richter,  Jeau  P.  F.,  quoted,  ii.  170; 

xi.  102. 
Rider,  a  good,  the  mark  of,  vi.  138 ; 

x.  60. 
Ridicule,  shun,  viii.   96 ;    as  remedy, 

143 ;  peculiar  to  man,  151 . 
Right,   meaning,   i.   31 ;   measure  of, 

318 ;  ii.  52,  70,  112  ;  iii.  62,  204 ;  x. 

88,  95,  185,  190  ;  liberates,  xi.  175, 

Rights,  human,  discussion  of,  iii.  67  ; 
equality,  193 ;  higher,  209,  243. 

RIPLEY,  EZRA,  D.  D.,  x.  355-370. 

Ripley,  George,  x.  321  /. 

Ritualism,  vi.  199 /;  x.  105. 

River,  taught  to  make  carpets,  xi. 
421  ;  of  delusions,  iv.  25 ;  emblem 
atic,  i.  32,  283  ;  man's  impiety 
towards,  vii.  240;  perpetual  gala, 
i.  25 ;  good-natured,  vii.  31  ;  intel 
lect,  a  river  from  an  unknown 
source,  ii.  252  ;  iii.  10  ;  makes  own 
shores,  viii.  235  ;  xii.  15. 

RIVERS,  Two,  ix.  213. 

Roads,  air,  xii.  249;  American  rage 
for,  i.  343 ;  through  solidest  things, 
iii.  232  ;  vent  for  industry,  vii.  26  ; 
meters  of  civilization,  x.  173  ;  xi. 
423;  mended  with  diamonds,  viii.  103. 

ROBBINS,  REV.  CHANDLER,  HYMN  AT 
ORDINATION  OF,  ix.  192  /. 

Robespierre,  eloquence,  viii.  126. 

Robin  Hood,  xii.  220. 

Rofciiison  Crusoe,  as  model  of  writing, 
x.  426. 

Rochester,  Earl  of,  quoted,  vii.  226. 

Rockets,  stars  of  heaven  packed  into, 
iii.  9. 

Rock,  of  ages,  ix.  295  ;  x.  70  ;  xii.  47  ; 
teaches  firmness,  i.  48,  283 ;  made  of 
gases,  vii.  139  ;  x.  72,  258. 

Rodney,  Admiral,  v.  69. 


Rogues,  in  politics,  vi.  67,  202 ;  under 
the  cassock,  x.  222 ;  the  choice  of 
sensible  persons,  xi.  406. 

Roman,  buildings,  i.  233  ;  conversa 
tion,  vii.  229  ;  education,  iii.  245 ; 
and  Greek  character,  viii.  300. 

Roman  Catholic  Church,  influence, 
v.  207 ;  x.  195,  219 ;  peculiar  rites, 
xi.  9/,  17;  346. 

Romance,  the  root  of,  ii.  242,  325; 
the  life  of  man  the  true  romance, 
iii.  270 ;  vii.  14,  17,  207. 

Romantic  era  not  past,  i.  108. 

ROMANY  GIRL,  ix.  195  /. 

Rome,  Caesar  called  his  house,  i.  79 ; 
charm,  xii.  87;  pictures,  ii.  336; 
sculpture  galleries,  vii.  54. 

ROME,  WRITTEN  AT,  ix.  301  /. 

Romilly,  Sir  Samuel,  v.  65,  89 /,  96, 
note,  97,  107,  150,  214. 

Rose  color,  soul  has  no,  ii.  272. 

Roses,  language,  i.  7 ;  ix.  31,  111  ; 
otto  of,  x.  169  ;  lives  in  the  present, 
ii.  67  ;  renews  its  race,  viii.  44 ;  red, 
through  thee,  ii.  181  ;  regal  acts 
like,  127 ;  rival  of,  39 ;  Saadi's  in 
toxication  from,  iv.  137  ;  shames 
man,  ii.  67. 

Rose-water  to  wash  negro  white,  vii. 
157. 

Rotation,  the  law  of  nature  and  of 
man,  iii.  227,  231 ;  nature's  remedy, 
iv.  23,  167 /. 

Rothschild,  vi.  75,  103. 
|  Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  iii.  260. 

Routine,  acts  of,  ii.  298  ;  power  of,  vi, 
77,  203  ;  x.  150  ;  xii.  54. 

Rowing  and  backing  water,  iii.  253. 

Rubbish  of  nature  conceals  useful 
results,  i.  44. 

RUBIES,  ix.  188. 

Ruby,  chalk  becomes,  ix.  247. 

Rude  people,  how  reached,  vi.  166. 
!  Ruffian  smoothed,  ii.  96. 
|  Ruins,  men  are,  vii.  106. 

Rulers,  physiognomy  of,  vi.  285  ;  viii. 
80,  220  ;  natural,  x.  120  ;  potency  of 
good,  xi.  296. 

Rules,  easy,  x.  150  ;  not  final,  217. 

Rum,  good  to  tax,  vii.  34. 

Rush,  Dr.  Benjamin,  vii.  269. 

Rushworth,  John,  quoted,  v.  291. 

Ruskin,  John,  quoted,  viii.  318. 

Russell,  Lord  William,  i.  27. 

Ruts  of  custom,  i.  238. 

Rydal  Mount,  v.  21,  279. 

SAADI,  ix.  114-118 ;  iv.  137  ;  vii. 

199;  viii.  65;  quoted,  iv.  206;  v. 
30 ;  vi.  94,  283 ;  vii.  299 ;  viii.  118  : 
xi.  222. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


331 


Sabbath,  made  unlovely,  i.  135 ;  jubi 
lee  of  the  world,  147,  209,  303 ;  iii. 
239;  vii.  162;  x.  351.  See,  also, 
Sunday. 

Saccharine  principle,  predominance 
of,  ii.  215,  296. 

Sachem,  head  of,  ii.  20. 

Sacred  Band,  i.  361 ;  x.  309 ;  xi.  384. 

Safety  bought  by  ourselves,  viii.  102. 

Sagas,  Norse,  v.  59,  61 ;  vii.  243. 

Sahara,  is  man's  fault,  x.  329;  xii. 
85. 

Sailors,  life  of,  v.  33  ;  vii.  248. 

Saiute-Beuve  quoted,  viii.  93. 

St.-Evremond,  Charles,  x.  333. 

St.  Just,  Autoine  L.,  quoted,  viii.  85. 

St.  Pierre,  Bernardm  de,  quoted,  x. 
178. 

St.  Simon,  C.  H.,  Comte  de,  iii.  250 ; 
quoted,  viii.  137. 

St.  Vitus's  dance,  x.  216,  255. 

Saints,  the  only  logicians,  i.  186;  a 
slight  taint  of  burlesque  attaches  to, 
335  ;  iii.  80  ;  iv.  128  ;  self-respect  of, 
viii.  296 ;  not  good  executive  officers, 
vi.  67. 

Salad  grown  by  electro-magnetism,  iii. 
187. 

Salieucy,  habit  of,  divine  effort  in  man, 
viii.  72 ;  xii.  220. 

Salisbury  Cathedral,  v.  67,  270 /. 

Salisbury  Plain,  v.  262,  267. 

Sallust  quoted,  i.  26. 

Salt,  truth  a  better  preserver  than, 
viii.  323. 

Saltations  of  thought,  i.  174 ;  iii.  70 ; 
viii.  72. 

Sample  men,  iv.  79. 

Samson,  Abbot,  x.  336  ;  xii.  239. 

San  Carlo,  iv.  166. 

San  Salvador,  wee,  ix.  201. 

Sanborn,  F.  B.,  verses  on  Samuel 
Hoar,  x.  405. 

Sanctity,  iv.  92. 

Sanctorius,  vi.  128. 

Sanctuary,  of  heart,  i.  265 ;  house  a, 
vii.  127. 

Sand,  George,  iv.  265  ;  v.  34  ;  vi.  164 ; 
vii.  203  ff;  quoted,  205;  viii.  274. 

Sandemanians,  feet-washing,  xi.  17. 

Sanity,  what  is,  vi.  263. 

Sannups,  ix.  125  ;  xi.  54. 

Santa  Croce,  church,  xii.  141. 

Saranac,  ix.  159. 

Sarona,  viii.  67. 

Sarsena,  v.  263. 

Satellites,  be  not  a  satellite,  i.  91 ;  hu 
man  arts  satellites  to  nature,  vii.  44. 

Saturn,  i.  280. 

Saturnalia,  transcendentalism  the 
Saturnalia  of  faith,  i.  320. 


Sauce-pan,  Macaulay  reduces  intellect 

to,  v.  235. 
Saurin,  Jacques,  quoted,  x.  317. 


Savages,  converse  in  figures,  i.  32,  34  ; 
advantaged,  ii.  83 ;  vi.  71 ;  an 


204. 


arts,  viii. 


Savant,  everybody  knows  as  much  as 
the  savant,  ii.  308 ;  a  pedant,  vii. 
174 ;  xii.  7. 

Savarin,  Brillat,  viii.  145. 

Savoyards,  who  whittled  up  their  pine- 
trees,  i.  98. 

Saxe,  Marshal,  saying,  vii.  248. 

Saxon  race,  citizens,  xi.  247 ;  demo 
cratic,  v.  75 ;  despair,  x.  86 ;  in 
England,  v.  54,  75/;  face,  68 ;  hands 
of  mankind,  77  ;  leaders,  vi.  89  ;  vii. 
270;  friendly  to  liberty,  xi.  175; 
merchants,  vi.  89 ;  moral  sentiment, 
v.  294 ;  precision,  224 ;  privacy,  x. 
343  ;  Protestants,  v.  50  ;  sturdi- 
ness,  168  ;  training,  vi.  36  ;  type,  v. 
57  ;  woman  of,  xi.  345 ;  workers,  v. 
75. 

Sayer  and  doer,  iii.  12 /. 

Saying,  not  what  you  say,  but  what 
you  are,  is  heard,  viii.  95. 

Scandinavians,  v.  55,  67,  133.  See, 
also,  Norse,  Norsemen. 

Scaurus,  Marcus  Aemilius,  vi.  186. 

Scenery,  influence,  ii.  140 ;  iii.  169  ;  vi. 
153. 

Scheherezade,  vii.  71 ;  x.  82. 

Schelling  quoted,  v.  230 ;  vi.  18. 

Schiller,  iii.  89  ;  quoted,  vi.  241 ;  viii. 
177,  313. 

Schisms  of  1820,  x.  307. 

Schlegel  quoted,  x.  164. 

SCHOLAR,  THE,  x.  247-274 ;  i.  81  ; 

115,  154-178 ;  needs  action,  96  ; 
aims,  iii.  255 ;  asceticism,  i.  170, 
180;  awkwardness,  viii.  82;  bifold 
life,  ii.  220 ;  and  books,  vii.  107, 187 ; 
x.  274  ;  born  too  soon,  232  ;  brave, 
i.  104 ;  a  candle,  vii.  16  ;  viii.  294  ;  x. 
260  ;  sacrificed  to  be  courtier  and 
diner-out,  xii.  8  ;  discipline,  i.  167- 
178;  duties,  101,  104;  viii.  218 ;  x. 
236,  241,  250,  273 ;  effeminacy,  vii. 
259 ;  egotism,  xii.  7  ;  enthusiasm, 
x.  259 ;  xii.  21 ;  every  man  a,  x. 
238 ;  xi.  106 ;  victim  of  expression, 
iii.  68  ;  failures,  i.  151 ;  faith,  237  ; 
and  farming  or  gardening,  vi.  112  ; 
gifts,  iii.  256  ;  x.  262,  265,  269  ;  and 
giddy  girl,  ii.  143  ;  wants  gossips, 
vii.  232  ;  habits,  viii.  280 ;  x.  240  ; 
and  heredity,  vi.  157  ;  favorite  of 
Heaven,  i.  151  ;  bringer  of  hope, 
185  ;  idealist,  viii.  218 ;  x.  243,  252 ; 
xii.  241 ;  carrier  of  ideas,  238 ;  in- 


332 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


dependent  of  his  times,  x.  237  ;  rep 
resents  intellect,  whereby  man  is 
man,  iv.  252  ;  viii.  286  ;  x.  2G2;  irri 
tability,  vi.  133;  labor,  viii.  294, 
323  ;  x.  260  ;  a  leader,  i.  86  ;  in  what 
his  learning  consists,  vii.  171 ;  stands 
for  liberty,  x.  236 ;  xi.  227 ;  a  liter 
ary  foundation,  vii.  107  ;  in  a  lum 
ber-camp,  x.  459  ;  is  man  thinking, 
i.  86  ;  manliness,  viii.  124  ;  accepts 
poverty  and  solitude,  i.  101,  162, 
175 ;  x.  273 ;  men  of  the  world,  i. 
95,  101 ;  vi.  133,  176  ;  x.  266 ;  pro 
phetic  function,  i.  174  ;  x.  232  ;  re 
sources,  i.  154-161 ;  ridicule  of,  iv. 
253  ;  his  secret,  viii.  296  ;  self-cen 
tred,  i.  102,  113  ;  self-denial,  ii.  318  ; 
as  speaker,  viii.  123  ;  his  subject,  i. 
161-167;  his  superiorities,  x.  231; 
patron  of  new  thought,  i.  276  ;  power 
over  thoughts,  xii.  40  ;  wariness,  vii. 
235 ;  wealth  an  impediment,  viii. 
280  ;  the  weather  fits  his  moods,  vii. 
162  ;  has  wiser  men  around  him, 
230  ;  not  to  defend  wrong,  x.  236  ; 
victory,  239.  See,  also,  Literary 
Ethics,  and  beloiv. 

SCHOLAR,  THE  AMERICAN,  i.  81-115. 

School-boys,  vi.  60 ;  vii.  116 ;  ix.  145 ; 
x.  138. 

School-girls,  x.  82  ;  xii.  78. 

School-house,  old,  vii.  162. 

Schools.     See  Education. 

Schopenhauer,  viii.  134. 

Science,  aids  to  man,  ii.  343 ;  vi.  158, 
209  ;  aim,  i.  10  ;  finding  analogy,  87  ; 
at  arm's  length  from  its  objects,  vi. 
267  ;  attraction,  i.  73  ;  beginnings  of, 
iv.  48 ;  empirical,  i.  70,  77  ;  effect 
on  man,  vi.  270;  English,  v.  240; 
lessons  should  be  experimental,  iii. 
245 ;  eye  of,  viii.  71  ;  destroys  fic 
tions  of  the  church,  x.  317  ;  formulas 
of  no  value  for  any  but  the  owner, 
270 ;  generalizations,  iv.  78 ;  half 
sight  of,  i.  73  ;  lacks  a  human  side, 
iv.  16;  vi.  268;  debt  to  imagina 
tion,  viii.  16  ;  a  search  for  identity, 
vi.  297  ;  viii.  13  ;  jealous  of  theory, 
vi.  270  ;  miracles,  viii.  197  ;  con 
tinuation  into  morals,  vi.  209 ;  mo 
tive,  269 ;  shows  the  genesis  of 
man,  viii.  13 ;  its  motive  the  ex 
tension  of  man  into  nature,  vi.  269  ; 
pedantry,  viii.  161  ;  and  poetry, 
iii.  25 ;  viii.  558 ;  of  sciences,  iv. 
62  ;  index  of  self-knowledge,  iii.  20  ; 
viii.  44,  210  ;  sensual  and  super 
ficial,  iii.  19  ;  coincidence  with 
virtue,  iv.  81 ;  wonder  the  seed  of, 
vii.  152. 


Sciences,  correlation,  viii.  211 ;  like 
sportsmen,  iv.  62. 

Scipio,  ii.  241;  Scipionism  of,  82. 

Scot,  paying,  ii.  108 ;  vi.  90. 

Scotch,  estimate  of  wealth,  x.  235. 

SCOTT,  WALTER,  xi.  371-377  ; boys' 

delight,  vi.  296  ;  ix.  206  ;  and  Byron, 
viii.  300;  novels,  iii.  143;  poetry, 
v.  242 ;  xii.  186,  227  ;  power,  x.  56, 
296  ;  and  Wordsworth,  v.  281  ; 
works,  i.  167  ;  ii.  38,  233 ;  iii.  144 ; 
x.  431 ;  quoted,  iii.  130  ;  vi.  287  ;  x. 
10. 

Scougal,  Henry,  x.  196,  218 ;  xii.  95. 

Screens,  iii.  131. 

Scribatiousness,  vii.  201. 

Scriblerus  Club,  Berkeley  at  the,  iii. 
259. 

Scripture,  Greek,  ii.  20, 28,  282  ;  laws 
of,  171,  330,  332 /,  339;  iii.  28,  41, 
106,  133,  223  ;  iv.  186 ;  vii.  47,  53 // 
teaches  manners,  vi.  153  ;  moral 
element,  290  ;  vii.  58.  See,  also,  Art. 

Scriptures,  fragmentary,  i.  148,  201 ; 
v.  209,  215.  See,  also,  Bible. 

Scythe,  sound  of,  in  the  mornings  of 
June,  ii.  216. 

Sea,  spray  from  antediluvian,  v.  52 ; 
attraction,  29;  vii.  164;  bellowing, 
ix.  14;  takes  Boston  in  its  arms, 
182  ;  cemetery,  v.  32  ;  chiding,  ix. 
207;  road  of  civilization,  vii.  25; 
dread  of,  v.  29,  32;  drinking,  iv. 
109 ;  drop  outweighs,  ii.  81 ;  drowns 
ship  and  sailor  like  a  grain  of  dust, 
vi.  35  ;  and  English  empire,  v. 
35;  life  on,  31  ;  masculine,  32  ; 
mastery,  vi.  36,  89  ;  viii.  291 ;  might, 
v.  32  ;  poet,  lord  of,  iii.  45  ;  Britain's 
ring  of  marriage,  v.  43  ;  thorough 
bass  of,  viii.  58 ;  of  circumstance, 
ii.  116 ;  of  delusion,  vii.  97 ;  genius 
a  diver  in,  i.  157  ;  of  knowledge,  vi. 
257  ;  educates  the  sailor,  vii.  25  ;  of 
science,  iii.  42  ;  of  thought,  i.  51, 
326  ;  ix.  122  ;  time,  passing  away  as, 
i.  142 ;  ii.  30.  See,  also,  Ocean. 

Sea-shell,  record  of  the  animal's 
life,  i.  284  ;  England's  crest,  v.  109. 

SEA-SHORE,  ix.  207  ff; i.  163;  iv. 

56  ;  vii.  25  ;  viii.  273 /;  xii.  85. 

Seasonable  things,  vii.  218. 

Seasons,  i.  24,  34  ;  religious  sentiment 
dependent  on,  iii.  55. 

Seceder  from  the  seceders,  i.  288. 

Secession,  peaceable,  xi.  300. 

Second  sight,  ethical,  iv.  82  ;  vi.  289  ; 
viii.  26;  pseudo-spiritualist,  x.  26. 

Secret,  of  God,  vi.  207;  of  success, 
234 ;  of  world,  iii.  16,  231 ;  x.  228. 

Secret  societies,  xi.  410. 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


333 


Secrets,  all  told,  ii.  99 ;  vi.  213 ;  not 
shown  except  to  sympathy  and 
likeness,  ii.  138  /;  iv.  154;  vii.  228. 

Sectarianism,  makes  false,  ii.  56  ; 
science  destroys,  viii.  201 ;  xii.  6. 

Sects,  narrowing,  x.  218;  xi.  392; 
shifting,  x.  113,  118  ;  xi.  389. 

Securities,  insecure,  vi.  106. 

Seeds,  i.  34  ;  iii.  179 ;  iv.  38 ;  produce 
their  like,  vi.  120,  222;  vii.  101; 
x.  248  ;  xii.  2G9. 

Seeing,  we  see  what  we  make,  ii.  140  /, 
242 ;  iii.  80,  170 ;  viii.  44 ;  and  do 
ing,  vi.  74  ;  xii.  49. 

Seeker,  endless,  i.  179 ;  ii.  269,  297. 

Seeming  and  being,  ii.  151 ;  x.  33, 
50. 

Seen  teaches  us  of  the  unseen,  ii.  139  ; 
viii.  320. 

Seer,  i.  94 ;  a  sayer,  133. 

Selden,  John,  quoted,  vii.  16 ;  x.  109. 

Self,  aboriginal,  ii.  64 ;  fleeing  from, 
80 ;  is  God  in  us,  i.  130,  273 ;  con 
dition  of  our  incarnation  in  a  self, 
160;  insist  on,  ii.  81;  leave  to  be 
one's,  vii.  217. 

Self-absolution,  ii.  74. 

Self-accusation,  ii.  296 ;  iii.  257. 

Self-adapting  strength,  xii.  270. 

Self-centred,  x.  252. 

Self-command,  i.  48  ;  viii.  85  ;  x.  153. 

Self-communion,  x.  227. 

Self-consciousness,  vii.  10. 

Self-content,  iii.  129. 

Self-control,  vi.  187  ;  viii.  86,  123 ; 
x.  153. 

Self-counsel,  ii.  247. 

Self -culture,  iv.  274. 

Self-defence,  xi.  194. 

Self-denial,  i.  209 ;  ii.  318 ;  vi.  149 ; 
xii.  252. 

Self-estimates,  iii.  257. 

Self-government,  iii.  209. 

Self-gratulation,  iv.  29. 

Self-heal,  iii.  186. 

Self-healing,  i.  76. 

Self-help,  the  only  help,  i.  234  ;  77  ; 
xi.  172,  182,  389. 

Selfish,  all  sensible  people  are,  iv.  168 ; 
vi.  261. 

Selfishness,  i.  222,  234;  our  history 
the  history  of,  240 ;  ours  makes  oth 
ers',  266 ;  self-punishing,  iii.  262  ;  vi. 
129 ;  x.  65 ;  xii.  181,  184,  252 ;  root 
of,  vi.  130. 

Self-knowledge,  ii.  40 ;  viii.  44  ;  x.  15. 

Self-love,  vi.  130  ;  vii.  239. 

Self-poise,  iii.  133 ;  vi.  195. 

Self-possession,  ii.  224  ;  vi.  152,  178. 

Self-recovery,  i.  70  ;  iii.  82. 

SELF-EELIANCE,  ii.  45-87 ;  i.  265, 


305,  316 ;  ii.  320 ;  iii.  128  /,  247 ; 
vi.  178,  182;  vii.  13,  275;  x.  59, 
62,  66,  84,  141,  198,  243;  xi.  198/, 
222,  405,  416. 

Self-respect,  i.  102,  369;  ii.  49,  153; 
iii.  133  ;  v.  142,  280  ;  not  measured 
by  number  of  clean  shirts,  vi.  235 ; 
viii.  286,  291  /,  296 ;  x.  40,  87  ;  xi. 
389. 
Self-sacrifice,  attractiveness  of,  i.  122  ; 

vii.  239  ;  viii.  104,  325  ;  ix.  243. 
Self-similar  woods,  ix.  163. 
Self-sufficingness,  iii.  98 ;  viii.  101. 
Self-trust,  the  reason  of,  i.  101,  104, 
106,  130,  142,  156,  198 ;  ii.  236 /;  iii. 
79,  247  ;  vii.  276,  278 ;  x.  20,  40,  67. 
See,  also,  Self-Reliance. 
Seneca  quoted,  viii.  268  ;  x.  294. 
Senses,  pleasure  severed  from  needs 
of  character,   ii.   100 ;   despotic  at 
short  distances,  i.  54,  153,  175 ;  iii. 
135  ;  education,  vi.  204  ;  fool  of,  iii. 
178  ;  and  imagination,  vi.  287  ;  im 
prison  us,  viii.  28 ;  overpowering  in 
fluence,   ii.   256  ;    interference,   vi. 
295  ;  life  of,  iii.  234  ;  men  of,  iv.  146 ; 
ministry  of,  xii.  34 ;  give  represen 
tations  only,  311 ;  secret,  29  ;  skep 
tics,  vii.  140 ;  collect  surface  facts, 
viii.  28  ;  not  final,  i.  311 ;  prudence 
the  virtue  of,  ii.  210. 
Sensibility,  is  all,  iii.  11,  169 ;  vii.  278 ; 
fountain  of  right  thought,  283 /,  287, 
309  ;  viii.  212  ;  x.  83  ;  xii.  39. 
Sensible  men,  rare,  viii.  287 /. 
Sensualism,  ii.  100,  219;  iii.  57;  vii. 

117  ;  x.  147, 149 ;  xi.  413. 
Sentiment,  measure  of  action,  ii.  147  ; 
Americans  deaf  to,  i.  237 ;  beauty 
depends  on  the  sentiment  it  inspires, 
vi.  284 ;  x.  57,  261 ;  is  color,  vii.  283 ; 
consolation  of  life,  viii.  102 ;  conver 
sation  excludes,  vii.  218 ;  counter 
feit,  viii.  103  ;  illumination,  vii.  279 ; 
largest  is  truest,  iv.  133 ;  law,  ii. 
99;  the  inside  aspect  of  life  the 
means  of  its  expression,  x.  261 ; 
power,  164;  xii.  110;  moral,  see 
Moral  sentiment ;  realm,  x.  84 ;  re 
ligious,  xi.  222 ;  advantages  of  re 
nouncing  generous  sentiment,  iv. 
218  ;  sail  of  the  ship  of  humanity, 
339 ;  starving,  x.  58 ;  thought  im- 
bosomed  in,  179;  never  loses  its 
youth,  226. 
Seiitimentalism,  viii.  103 ;  nature  no 

sentimentalist,  vi.  12. 
Sepulture,  forms  of,  as  the  history  of 

religion,  viii.  308. 

Sequestration,  by  intellect,  ii.  321;  iii. 
104. 


334 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


Seraphim,  love  most,  ii.  321. 

Serenity  the  charm  of  manners,  iii. 
134 ;  vi.  281 ;  x.  58. 

Sermons  of  the  early  times,  x.  107. 

Servants,  false  relations  to,  i.  240  ;  vi. 
260 /. 

Service,  being  served,  an  onerous  busi 
ness,  iii.  157  ff;  none  direct,  iv. 
13  f;  services  do  not  join  us  to  oth 
ers,  .but  only  likeness,  iii.  159 ;  al 
ways  remunerated,  vi.  220  ;  x.  186  ; 
truth  serves  all,  ix.  105  ;  x.  202  ;  the 
virtue  of  all  beings,  xi.  277,  422 /. 

Sets  in  society,  viii.  89. 

Settled,  the  wish  to  be,  ii.  298,  318. 

Seventeenth  century  writing,  v.  225. 

Seward,  William  H.,  xi.  308. 

Sex,  iv.  124 ;  vi.  59 ;  xi.  340,  355  ;  two 
sexes  in  the  English  mind,  v.  G8. 

Sexual  attraction,  vi.  129 ;  vii.  306. 

Seyd,  vi.  265 ;  ix.  21,  249. 

Shadows,  the  world  the  shadow  of  the 
soul,  i.  96 ;  ii.  189 ;  iii.  77  ;  viii.  27, 
162 ;  institutions  shadows  of  men, 
ii.  62 ;  point  to  the  sun,  147;  rhymes 
to  the  eye,  viii.  48. 

Shah  Nameh,  viii.  229. 

Shakers,  vi.  67,  195,  226  ;  flowers,  ix. 
86. 

SHAKESPEARE,  WILLIAM,  iv.  179-209; 

ix.  190,  243;  advantages,  iv. 

184 ;  his  sentences  aerolites,  199  ; 
Ariel,  viii.  46;  autograph,  iii.  65; 
Delia  Bacon  on,  viii.  188 ;  best-bred 
man,  iii.  144 ;  common  sense,  viii. 
9 ;  creative  power,  47  ;  debt  to  oth 
ers,  vi.  60 ;  dialogue,  iii.  144 ;  in 
earnest,  vii.  56;  without  egotism, 
xii.  192;  without  effort,  vii.  174; 
and  English  history,  189  ;  equal 
ity  in  all  his  work,  viii.  73  ;  xii.  46  ; 
exactitude  of  mind,  v.  223;  most 
expressive  man,  x.  168;  Falstaff, 
viii.  154,  237 ;  generalizations,  v. 
229,  231 ;  called  out  German  genius, 
xii.  180;  and  Goethe,  viii.  69;  xii. 
193 ;  humanity,  ii.  270 ;  Imogen,  v. 
107;  made  up  of  important  passages, 
viii.  36  ;  influence,  i.  92  ;  best  known 
of  men,  iv.  200 ;  not  known  to  his 
time,  ii.  34  ;  viii.  185 ;  Lear,  32, 
34 ;  gives  a  feeling  of  longevity,  ii. 
256 ;  unmeasured,  ix.  206,  243  ;  chief 
merit,  iv.  20 ;  and  Milton,  xii.  151, 
157 ;  miraculous,  viii.  261 ;  imperial 
muse,  i.  57  ;  power  of  subordinating 
nature  to  purposes  of  expression, 
57 ;  organ  of  mankind,  ii.  105 ;  no 
non-resistent,  i.  100 ;  xi.  198 ;  per 
ception  of  identity,  iv.  22  ;  person 
ality,  xii.  171 ;  Platouist,  iv.  85 ;  use 


of  Plutarch,  x.  280  ;  knows  poverty, 
vi.  247  ;  popular  power,  x.  56 ;  xi. 
367  ;  realism,  viii.  31 ;  richness,  iii. 
43 ;  keenness  of  sense,  xii.  225 ;  on 
study,  vii.  188;  style,  iv.  20;  and 
Swedenborg,  92  ;  Tempest,  i.  58 ; 
unique,  ii.  82,  128  ;  universality, 
12  ;  value,  i.  156  ;  viii.  209  ;  versatil 
ity,  73 ;  a  voice  merely,  xii.  151 ; 
well  -  read,  vi.  136  ;  wisdom,  gol 
den  word,  iv.  197;  xii.  188;  hard 
to  distinguish  his  works,  i.  92 ;  iv. 
43 ;  achievement  as  a  youth,  vii. 
303 ;  quoted,  i.  39,  58/;  ii.  191,  238, 
337 ;  iv.  86,  197  ;  v.  127  ;  vi.  245 ;  vii. 
188  ;  viii.  147  ;  x.  47 /,  167  ;  xi.  303. 

Shakespeare  of  divines,  ix.  17. 

Shakespearian,  be  a,  iv.  33. 

Shams  in  building,  vi.  276. 

Sharpe,  Granville,  xi.  136  /,  141; 
quoted,  165. 

Shelley,  Percy  B.,  viii.  29;  xii.  186; 
quoted,  viii.  309. 

Shell-fish,  growth,  i.  284;  ii.  22,  120; 
iii.  29,  173 ;  iv.  154. 

Shenstone,  William,  quoted,  viii.  92. 

Sheridan,  Richard  B.,  quoted,  v.  171. 

Ships,  v.  31 ;  vii.  28  ;  ship  of  heaven, 
x.  189 ;  of  humanity,  xi.  339 ;  mon 
archy  like  a  ship,  iii.  202. 

Shirts,  clean,  the  measure  of  self-re 
spect,  v.  84 ;  vi.  235  ;  x.  188. 

Shop-bill,  ethics  in,  ii.  111. 

Shop-keeping,  iii.  67 ;  xi.  153. 

Shop,  talking,  viii.  97. 

Shopman,  wrinkled,  ix.  74. 

Shore,  needed  in  shoving  off,  i.  288. 

Shot  heard  round  the  world,  ix.  139. 

Should  and  would,  viii.  34. 

Shrewdness  and  wisdom  contrasted, 
ii.  114. 

Shyness,  disease  of,  vii.  10,  12. 

Sibyls,  writing,  xii.  67. 

Sicily,  vii.  70. 

Sick  people,  vi.  250,  252. 

Sickness,  poor-spirited,  iii.  67  ;  vi.  57, 
129,  249 /;  viii.  96;  a  forbidden 
topic,  vi.  188. 

Sidney,  Algernon,  quoted,  x.  261. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  v.  10,  269 ;  viii.  47; 
xi.  262  ;  quoted,  ii.  145. 

Sieve,  the  ear  a  sieve,  xii.  29. 

Sight,  iv.  65. 

Sights  and  sounds,  viii.  27. 

Sign-boards  of  character,  iii.  56;  vi. 
169 ;  x.  16. 

Signing  off,  i.  140. 

Silence,  better  than  discourse,  ii.  290 ; 
viii.  95 ;  destroys  personality,  319  ; 
xii.  157. 

Silenus,  iii.  150. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


335 


Sills  of  state,  xii.  105. 

Similar  aiid  same,  x.  145. 

Simile,  use,  viii.  17. 

Simonides,  x.  444. 

Simorg,  viii.  228,  250. 

Simplicity,  greatness  of,  i.  160;  ii. 
272;  v.  179;  vi.  279;  vii.  116;  x. 
57,  171. 

Sims,  rendition  of,  xi.  272. 

Sin,  iii.  79. 

Sinai,  theatrical,  v.  219. 

Sincerity,  the  basis  of  talent  as  of 
character,  xii.  58 ;  gives  lasting  ef 
fect,  ii.  145 ;  vi.  216  ;  the  luxury  of, 
ii.  193  ;  more  excellent  than  flattery, 
274  ;  German,  iv.  267  ;  v.  115 ;  gives 
force  to  eloquence,  viii.  126 ;  great 
men  sincere,  217  ;  ix.  16  ;  x.  244  ; 
xii.  28,  58 ;  every  sincere  man  is 
right,  49. 

Sing-Sing  in  parlor,  vii.  19. 

Sistine  Chapel,  vii.  126. 

Sitfast  acres,  ix.  36. 

Sixteen,  sweet  seriousness  of,  vi.  272. 

Sixty,  man  worth  nothing  until,  vii. 
302. 

Size  and  worth,  vi.  181 ;  ix.  202. 

Skates,  wings  or  fetters,  vi.  20. 

Skating,  iii.  62 ;  vi.  36 ;  viii.  34. 

Skepticism,  self-defence  against  crude 
sentiment,  ii.  34,  285  ;  iii.  67, 76,  256, 
263 ;  iv.  148  ff,  163  ff,  172  ;  x.  210  ; 
not  to  be  feared,  iv.  174;  vi.  193  jf, 
205  ff;  x.  204,  215  ;  is  belief  in  luck, 
210  ;  viii.  134,  316  ;  x.  265. 

Skill,  comes  of  doing,  vii.  303. 

Sky,  do  not  leave  the  sky  out  of  your 
landscape,  vi.  188,  288;  vii.  164 /; 
viii.  73,  134 ;  ix.  15. 

Skyey  sentences,  iv.  198. 

Sky-language,  xii.  18. 

Slaughter-house,  vi.  13. 

Slave-drivers,  theoretic,  iii.  56. 

Slavery,  xi.  129-175;  203-230;  277- 

290  ;  291-303 ; abolition,  i.  266  ; 

xi.  233;  American  churches  on,  x. 
114  ;  influence  on  American  govern 
ment,  xi.  244;  Bible  and,  220; 
checking,  283  ;  compromises,  i.  261 ; 
xi.  163,  283;  conspiracy,  277;  in 
Cuba,  i.  221 ;  described,  xi.  134 /;  a 
destitution,  277  ;  disappearance, viii. 
138;  bad  economy,  vii.  137;  xi. 
280;  Edinburgh  Review  on,  165, 
'280 ;  effects,  245  ;  in  England,  138  ; 
enigma  of  the  time,  332 ;  evils,  ix. 
178  ;  xi.  104,  155,  244,  280  ;  we  must 
get  rid  of  slavery  or  else  of  free 
dom,  233;  proof  of  infidelity,  vi. 
201 ;  makes  life  a  fever,  xi.  233  ; 
resistance  to  it  a  nursery  of  orators, 


vii.  94;  xi.  347;  proslavery  schol 
ars,  x.  236 ;  selfishness,  i.  266 ;  vii. 
155  ;  woman  and,  xi.  347  ;  inconsis 
tent  with  the  principles  on  which 
the  world  is  built,  226. 

Slaves,  must  be  able  to  defend  them 
selves,  xi.  171 ;  most  men  are,  vi. 
27  ;  prices,  x.  51. 

Slave-trade,  i.  256;  iii.  94;  xi.  134, 
138  jf,  168;  xii.  270. 

Sleep,  a  bar  between  day  and  day,  v. 
71 ;  viii.  258 ;  those  only  can  sleep 
who  do  not  care  to  sleep,  vii.  174 ; 
of  children,  xii.  71 ;  takes  off  cos 
tume  of  circumstance,  x.  14  ;  divine 
communications  in,  vi.  188 ;  en 
chantress,  x.  9;  lingers  about  our 
eyes,  iii.  49 ;  the  condition  of  health, 
viii.  265 ;  memory  of,  x.  11 ;  life  a 
sleep-walking,  i.  107  ;  witchcraft,  x. 
9.  See,  also,  Dreams. 

Sleezy  hours,  vi.  81. 

Sloven  continent,  v.  273 ;  plenty,  xi. 
409. 

Smartness,  American  love  of,  xi.  212  ; 
xii.  52. 

Smile,  the  forced  smile  in  company, 
ii.  56. 

Smith,  Adam,  quoted,  x.  402  ;  xi. 
313. 

Smith,  Captain  John,  viii.  158  ;  quoted, 
xii.  100. 

Smith,  Sydney,  quoted,  v.  101,  150, 
189 ;  vi.  235 ;  viii.  265 ;  xii.  91. 

Snakes,  peril  of,  ii.  294;  as  type  of 
spine,  iv.  105 ;  doctrine  of  the  snake, 
vi.  91 ;  ix.  73. 

Snow,  a  cloak,  viii.  140 ;  property  like, 
i.  43  ;  shroud,  ix.  200  ;  and  sunshine, 
189. 

Snow-ball,  of  memory,  xii.  70. 

Snow-drift,  ii.  23  ;  ix.  27. 

Snow-flakes,  iii.  166  ;  ix.  179,  287. 

SNOW-STORM,  THE,  ix.  42  /;  of 

illusions,  vi.  308. 

Snuffle  in  religion,  vi.  229. 

SOCIAL  AIMS,  viii.  77-105. 

Social  barriers,  viii.  89;  goods,  vi. 
156 ;  machine,  152  ;  order,  i.  288  ;  x. 
184;  pests,  vi.  167;  power,  condi 
tions  of,  v.  8  ;  relations,  iii.  260 ;  sci 
ence,  viii.  198  /;  x.  201  ;  soul,  ii. 
198;  structure,  i.  236;  usages,  ii. 
143 ;  vii.  114. 

Social  Circle,  Concord,  Mass.,  x.  357, 
note. 

Socialism,  i.  359  ;  vi.  67,  96 ;  x.  326  ff. 

Societies,  iii.  127  ;  x.  254.  See  Associ 
ations. 

Society,  vii.  15-20;  never  ad 
vances,  ii.  82 ;  advantages,  i.  294 ; 


336 


GENERAL  INDEX 


Hi.  110 ;  vii.  213 ;  x.  139 ;  aims,  vi. 
235  ;  babyish,  ii.  74  :  vi.  92,  156  ;  x. 
266  ;  bases,  vii.  97  ;  viii.  104  ; 
changes,  x.  309 ;  Chanmng's  attempt 
at,  321  ;  chemistry  of,  vii.  19  ; 
chooses  for  us,  ii.  75 ;  the  need  to  be 
clothed  with,  vii.  15 ;  composition 
of,  iii.  196  ;  in  conspiracy  against 
manhood  of  its  members,  ii.  51, 194  ; 
constituents,  i.  337 ;  conventional, 
iii.  136 ;  for  conversation,  vii.  214  ; 
best  cordial,  213  ;  intolerant  of  crit 
icism,  iv.  164;  part  of  the  idea  of 
culture,  x.  36 ;  people  descend  to 
meet,  ii.  190,  261 ;  vii.  18 ;  a  disap 
pointment,  ii.  191 ;  divides  man,  i. 
85 ;  dress,  viii.  87  ;  empty,  ii.  290  ; 
favorites,  iii.  137 ;  fine,  vi.  235  ;  fine 
traits  unfit  for,  vii.  12 ;  fit  found 
everywhere,  viii.  302  ;  no  fixity,  iii. 
191 ;  French  definition  of,  119  ;  sub 
ject  to  fits  of  frenzy,  x.  266 ;  frivo 
lous,  iii.  98 ;  threatened  with  gran 
ulation,  118  ;  is  a  hospital,  254  ; 
ideal,  viii.  89  ;  an  illusion,  i.  328  ;  iii. 
191 ;  vi.  296 ;  swift  in  its  instincts, 
178;  welcomes  intellect,  iii.  136; 
affinity  its  law,  i.  123  ;  vii.  19  ;  life's 
value  doubled  by,  viii.  89 ;  manners 
associate  us,  vi.  165 ;  a  masquerade, 
213 ;  secret  melancholy,  iii.  255 ; 
moral  power  controls,  i.  238  ;  x.  66 ; 
moral  sentiment  its  basis,  i.  125 ; 
work  of  necessity,  288,  295;  iii. 
118 ;  vii.  215,  231 ;  made  up  of  par 
tialities,  xi.  352  ;  the  poets'  fabulous 
picture  of,  iii.  168;  poverty  of  in 
vention,  ii.  340 ;  a  prison,  iii.  244 ; 
progressive,  xi.  345;  relations,  ii. 
259 /;  renovation,  iii.  248;  retreat 
from,  i.  316,  328 ;  x.  141 ;  foolish 
routine,  169  ;  rulers,  iii.  122  ;  its  san 
ity  the  balance  of  a  thousand  insan 
ities,  226;  a  school,  iv.  34;  x.  139  ; 
shunned  in  order  to  be  found,  i. 
169,  327  ;  spoiled  by  too  much 
pains,  iii.  110  ;  stimulating,  vii. 
16 ;  secret  of  success  in,  iii.  137 ; 
harnessed  in  the  team  of,  i.  238  ; 
timing  and  placing,  viii.  83  ;  timor 
ous,  ii.  74 ;  troop  of  thinkers,  vi. 
60 ;  trifles,  i.  141 ;  our  inexperience 
of  true,  vii.  121  ;  truth-lover  in, 
228 ;  does  not  love  its  unmaskers, 
vi.  296 ;  use  of,  i.  169 ;  vii.  16 ;  vul 
gar,  ii.  136 ;  vii.  18  ;  a  wave,  ii.  85  ; 
sacrificed  to  smooth  working,  i. 
300. 

SOCIETY  AND  SOLITUDE,  vii.  7-20. 

Socrates,  misunderstood,  ii.  34,  58, 
241,  264 ;  iii.  123 ;  iv.  44 /,  60,  66,  70- 


74,  81,  95, 134, 161,  274 ;  vi.  240, 247; 
x.  290  ;  xii.  58  ;  quoted,  iv.  134, 
151;  vi.  253;  vii.  66,  181,  285;  xii. 
213. 

Soil,  actions  smack  of,  ix.  35 ;  rights 
in,  i.  291. 

Solar  system,  not  anxious  about  its 
credit,  vi.  194 ;  has  its  parallel  in 
the  mental  sphere,  viii.  42,  212. 

Soldiers,  vi.  72  ;  vii.  246  jf;  x.  41. 

Solidarity,  English,  v.  98;  nature's, 
vii.  139. 

Solidity,  i.  313. 

Soliform  eye,  iv.  81. 

Solitariest  man,  x.  61. 

Solitariness,  vii.  10,  15 ;  xii.  253. 

Solitude,  i.  168  ff;  vi.  149  ff;  vii.  10- 

15 ; age  tends  to,  x.  309  ;  art  of, 

140 ;  in  cities,  i.  13  ;  consent  to,  265  ; 
ripens  despots,  iii.  227 ;  fragrant, 
ix.  18  ;  insulation  not,  i.  168 ;  lessons 
of,  iv.  206  ;  vi.  149 ;  viii.  271,  293 ;  x. 
140  ;  xi.  222  ;  of  nature  not  so  essen 
tial  as  solitude  of  habit,  i.  13;  vi. 
150  ;  254 ;  viii.  272  ;  necessity  of,  i. 
69 ;  168 ;  vi.  246  ;  vii.  12//  populous, 
i.  135 ;  vi.  255 ;  vii.  162,  168  ;  Pytha 
goras  on,  vi.  149 ;  viii.  271 ;  revela 
tions  in,  iii.  86 ;  vii.  20 ;  the  schol 
ar's,  i.  168 ;  secret  of,  xii.  187 ;  and 
society,  i.  169;  ii.  55;  vii.  20;  of 
soul  without  God,  x.  213 ;  trespass 
not  on,  142 ;  voices  heard  in,  ii.  51 ; 
xii.  75. 

Solomon,  in  Persian  poetry,  viii.  228 /, 
236 ;  ix.  250. 

Solstices  of  health  and  spirits,  vi.  142, 
209 ;  x.  211. 

SOLUTION,  ix.  189-191. 

Somers,  Lord,  quoted,  v.  247. 

Somnambulism,  x.  29. 

SONG  OF  NATURE,  ix.  209-212. 

Songs,  essentials  of,  vii.  174;  viii. 
60 /. 

Sons  of  poor  men,  vii.  116. 

Sophocles  quoted,  iii.  73 ;  x.  295. 

Sordor,  i.  79. 

Sorrow,  religion  of,  i.  209.     See  Grief. 

Soul,  natural  history  of,  xii.  3-59 ; 

published  in  act,  vi.  163  ;  the  active, 
i.  91  ;  admirable,  not  in  our  ex 
perience,  iv.  55 ;  adult  in  the  infant 
man,  ii.  262 ;  independent  of  age, 
262;  all  things  known  to,  i.  212; 
ii.  119 ;  iii.  231  ;  balanced,  iv.  55  ; 
becomes,  ii.  69 ;  biography,  vi.  268  ; 
and  body,  see  Body  ;  not  saved  in 
bundles,  205 ;  x.  103 ;  child  of,  iii. 
180;  contrasted  with  the  church, 
i.  141 ;  circumscribes  all  things,  ii. 
256 ;  classes  of,  iv.  136  ;  conceal- 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


337 


ment  of  what  does  not  concern  it, 
iii.  232 ;  counterpoise  to  all  souls, 
320 ;  xi.  221 ;  knows  no  deformity, 
ii.  125  ;  dictator,  viii.  281  ;  diseases, 
ii.  126 ;  divine,  i.  115,  212 ;  door, 
ii.  173 ;  dressed  by  Deity  in  cer 
tain  incommunicable  powers,  137  ; 
iv.  32;  vii.  15;  duration,  ii.  266; 
vi.  228 ;  ebb,  35 ;  ejaculations,  vii. 
209;  its  emphasis  always  right,  ii. 
137  ;  in  English  broadcloth,  v.  241 ; 
contains  the  events  that  shall  befall 
it,  x.  15  ;  the  eyes  indicate  its  age, 
vi.  170  ;  vii.  122 ;  no  flatterer,  ii.  277  ; 
its  food,  i.  205 ;  dependence  of  form 
on,  iii.  9 ;  growth  not  gradual  but 
total,  ii.  258,  298 ;  gymnasium  of, 
iv.  22 ;  it  is  in  a  hope  that  she  feels 
ker  wings,  i.  205  ;  bound  to  life  by 
illusions,  vii.  165;  identity  in  all 
individuals,  i.  108  ;  immortality, 
see  Immortality  ;  incarnation,  ii. 
259  ;  laws,  i.  122  ;  a  life,  ii.  116  ;  is 
light,  67;  lofty,  i.  253;  man  an 
infinite,  134 ;  marriage  of,  xii.  17  ; 
natural  history,  i.  201 ;  nature  of, 
ii.  254  ;  and  nature,  see  under 
Nature ;  oracle,  viii.  281 ;  not  an 
organ  or  faculty,  ii.  254  ;  each 
walks  its  own  path,  xii.  39 ;  not 
now  preached,  i.  134 ;  private  and 
divine,  x.  228  ;  progress,  ii.  179, 
258 ;  promise,  161  ;  does  not  answer 
the  questions  of  the  understanding, 
265  ;  receptive,  i.  201 ;  its  large 
relations,  vi.  268 ;  remedial,  i.  147  ; 
does  not  repeat  itself,  ii.  82,  327; 
revelations,  257 ;  a  river  from  un 
seen  regions,  252 ;  not  self-fed,  xii. 
177;  its  sleep,  viii.  216;  social,  ii. 
198 ;  attainment  of  due  sphericity, 
iii.  81 ;  stability,  ii.  297  ;  superior  to 
its  knowledge,  xii.  188 ;  surren 
dered,  i.  253  ;  in  telegraphic  com 
munication  with  the  source  of 
events,  viii.  216 ;  x.  232  ;  tide  in, 
xi.  188 ;  knows  nothing  of  time, 
ii.  257  ;  no  traveller,  79  ;  to  be 
trusted,  179  ;  discerner  of  truth, 
262 ;  universal,  i.  145  /,  212  ;  ii. 
261  ;  iii.  19,  79  ;  iv.  51 ;  vii.  44 ;  viii. 
30  ;  x.  100,  >228  ;  the  painted  vicis 
situdes  of,  viii.  30 ;  wanderings,  ii. 
172;  the  whole  of  which  other 
things  are  the  shining  parts,  253 ; 
wider  than  space,  i.  213 ;  wiser 
than  the  world,  142 ;  answers  not 
by  words,  ii.  265  ;  world  mirror 
of,  i.  148.  See  Over-Soul. 
Source  must  be  higher  than  the  tap, 
xi.  395. 


SOUTH  WIND,  ix.  310. 

Southern  people,  vii.  70 ;  xi.  284. 

Southey,  Robert,  v.  11. 

Space,  i.  44 ;  ii.  216. 

Spartan  civilization,  i.  299 ;  vii.  30 ; 
xi.  152  ;  conversation,  vii.  66,  236  ; 
domestic  life,  ii.  28 ;  fife,  61 ;  gen 
erals,  vii.  79;  justice,  iii.  195;  re 
ligion,  vi.  11  ;  saying,  iv.  130. 

Spasms  of  nature,  vi.  77  ;  x.  185 ;  xi. 
224. 

Specialty,  each  must  have  his,  vi. 
130. 

Speculation,  and  practice,  i.  10,  270  /; 
iii.  254 ;  iv.  53,  254  //  no  succeda- 
neum  for  life,  xii.  258. 

Speech,  iii.  42  ;  lessens  us,  ii.  319  ;  vi. 
214;  vii.  10,  42,  95;  viii.  91,  94/; 
x.  164 ;  xii.  240 ;  and  silence,  ii.  319  ; 
iii.  233  ;  vii.  283. 

Spence,  Joseph,  quoted,  iv.  146. 

Spence,  William,  quoted,  v.  146. 

Spencer,  Earl,  book  contest,  vii.  200. 

Spending,  rules  for,  vi.  109-123,  213. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  v.  223;  vii.  50; 
viii.  51  /;  quoted,  iii.  19;  iv.  59; 
v.  230 ;  viii.  146. 

Spheral,  iii.  230  ;  vi.  295. 

SPHINX,  ix.  9-13  ; i.  39  ;  ii.  10,  35 ; 

vii.  222  ;  xii.  267. 

Spine,  the  unit  of  animal  structure, 
iv.  105. 

Spiral  tendency,  iv.  108;  vi.  267; 
ix.  13. 

SPIRIT,  i.  65-69;  all -knowing, 

145 ;  all  things  from  same,  123 ; 
ascent  of,  x.  224;  creator,  i.  33; 
defined,  31 ;  eternal,\74 ;  vii.  59 ;  x. 
99;  every  one  build's  its  house,  i. 
79 ;  vi.  14,  272 ;  inundation  of,  i. 
167  ;  a  fact  the  end  or  last  issue  of, 
40  ;  ii.  259 ;  iii.  161  ;  x.  212 ;  latent, 
iii.  264  ;  man  founded  in,  74 ;  moan- 
ings,  x.  14 ;  names,  iii.  74 ;  267 ; 
remedial  force,  i.  74;  self-evolving 
power,  iv.  83  ;  vii.  155 ;  solicitations, 
i.  211 ;  speaks  to  each  soul,  x.  193 ; 
superincumbent,  i.  176 ;  iii.  267 ; 
supreme  in  all,  i.  126  ;  taciturn,  iv. 
134 ;  teachings  apprehended  only 
by  the  same  spirit,  i.  67 ;  xi.  221 ; 
material  theories  of,  do  not  degrade, 
ii.  285  ;  universal,  i.  49 ;  iv.  51 ; 
vanishing,  x.  212. 

Spirit,  Holy,  see  Holy  Ghost. 

Spirit  of  times,  vi.  9. 

Spiritism,  x.  18. 

Spirits,  animal,  ii.  87 ;  in  prison,  xi. 
205. 

Spiritual,  iii.  56 ;  true  meaning  is  real. 
vi.  205! 


338 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


SPIRITUAL  LAWS,  ii.  123, 157. 

Spiritual  life,  unexampled  in  history, 
i.  319. 

Spiritualism,  false,  iv.  134;  v.  122; 
vi.  200 ;  vii.  273 ;  x.  18,  2G,  30,  234. 

Spontaneity,  the  essence  of  life,  i. 
161 ;  always  right,  ii.  64,  132,  306 ; 
iii.  70 ;  vii.  174 ;  viii.  192 ;  xi.  355 ; 
xii.  31. 

Sportiveness  of  great,  ii.  241. 

Sports,  freemasonry  of,  vi.  138. 

Spotted  life,  ii.  278 ;  x.  344. 

Sprague,  Charles,  quoted,  xi.  65. 

Spring,  chemistry,  ix.  158 ;  eagerness, 
147  ;  in  mind  at  sixty,  26 ;  no  ora 
tor  like,  158 ;  tardy,  148  ;  woods, 
18.  See  May-Day. 

Spurzheim,  x.  318. 

Squeals  of  laughter,  viii.  86. 

Squirrels,  ix.  143. 

Stability  of  the  soul,  ii.  297  ;  viii.  318. 

Stael,  Madame  de,  i.  169;  iii.  132; 
iv.  274 ;  v.  117  ;  vi.  144 ;  vii.  225 ; 
viii.  92  /;  quoted,  i.  49 ;  v.  117, 
222 ;  viii.  176. 

Stagnation  of  life,  iii.  54. 

Stairs,  ii.  325 ;  iii.  49  ;  v.  226 ;  ix.  107 

Stamina,  want  of,  xi.  208. 

Stars,  beguiling,  iii.  168;  black,  vi. 
251;  blessing,  ii.  41;  cataloguing 
stars  of  the  mind,  i.  101;  discon 
tented,  202;  of  flowers,  24;  fugi 
tive,  vi.  291 ;  inspiration,  i.  13  ;  new 
doctrines  like  stars  whose  light  has 
not  yet  reached  us,  ii.  140,  320 ; 
one  light  from  all,  i.  108 ;  loved  by, 
ix.  76  ;  of  mind,  i.  101  ;  patient,  ix. 
277 ;  and  planets,  ii.  188 ;  of  possi 
bility,  i.  212;  punctual,  ix.  200; 
awaken  reverence,  i.  13;  packed 
into  rockets,  xii.  9 ;  rose,  his  faith 
was  earlier  up,  ix.  231, 257 ;  science- 
baffling,  ii.  64  ;  shower  of,  vii.  124  ; 
silent  song  of,  i.  124 ;  all  sky  and 
no,  xii.  42 ;  smile,  i.  13 ;  stoop  down, 
iii.  169  ;  strangers  to,  ix.  123  ; 
taunt  by  mystery,  25 ;  of  thought, 
ii.  205,  301 ;  vii.  236 ;  hitch  wagon 
to,  33 //  with  some  men  we  walk 
among  the  stars,  viii.  83. 

State,  not  aboriginal,  iii.  191 ;  basis, 
189,  209  ff;  x.  112  ;  xi.  104 ;  building, 
ix.  230 ;  corrupt,  iii.  199 ;  guidance 
of,  xi.  424 ;  object,  iii.  206;  x.  93  ;  a 
question,  iv.  151  ;  wise  man  is,  iii. 
206. 

States  of  mind,  rotation  of,  iv.  168. 

Statesmen,  republican,  iii.  189  ;  Amer 
ican,  xi.  167. 

Statistics,  iv.  106 ;  vi.  21. 

Statue,  ii.  333,  340  ;  of  punk,  vi.  138  ; 


has  no  tongue,  163 ;  vii.  126 ;  man 
ners  of,  viii.  85. 

Statute,  an  immoral  statute  void,  xi. 
246. 

Stay  at  home  in  mind,  viii.  97. 

Stealing,  who  does  not  steal  ?  iii.  80. 

Steam,  i.  19  ;  v.  95,  155  ff;  163  ;  vi.  37, 
84,  86 ;  vii.  153 ;  ix.  23 ;  x.  17,  25, 
151. 

Steamship,  ii.  343. 

Steel-filings,  men  like,  iii.  218. 

Steele,  Richard,  quoted,  viii.  92. 

Steering  and  drifting,  x.  189. 

Steffens,  Heinrich,  quoted,  viii.  201. 

Stephenson,  George,  vi.  118. 

Stick  to  your  own,  vi.  262 ;  viii.  287. 

Stilling,  Jung,  iii.  102 ;  vi.  12. 

Stimulants  used  by  bards,  iii.  31. 

Stirling,  James  H.,  quoted,  viii.  127. 

Stockholder  in  sin,  ii.  235. 

Stoical  plenum,  i.  159. 

Stoicism,  iii.  179 ;  iv.  153 ;  x.  200,  291, 
300 ;  xii.  95  ;  genesis  of,  i.  320 ;  puts 
the  gods  on  their  defence,  xii.  95 ; 
every  stoic  a  stoic,  ii.  84. 

Stomach,  a  stomach  evidence,  viii. 
316;  iv.  168;  stoutness,  or,  vi.  61; 
xi.  200. 

Stonehenge,  v.  259-275. 

Stones,  conscious,  ix.  16;  rocking- 
stones,  xi.  334;  broken  cannot  be 
put  together  into  unity,  xii.  40. 

Stories,  love  for,  vii.  202,  221 ;  genesis 
of,  viii.  173,  178. 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  vii.  270. 

Str afford,  Earl  of,  rule  as  to  reading, 
viii.  175. 

Straight  lines,  no,  vii.  173. 

Strangers,  184 /,  317;  iii.  65;  vi.  85. 

Strawberries  lose  flavor  in  garden- 
beds,  ii.  227. 

Stream  of  power  and  wisdom,  ii.  133  ; 
xi.  167;  xii.  15. 

Streets,  i.  55 ;  vi.  296 ;  x.  139  ;  xii.  66  ; 
language  of,  force,  viii.  121. 

Strength,  ii.  68,  113 ;  vi.  60,  182 ;  joy 
indicates,  250;  vii.  267;  x.  71;  de 
pends  on  moral  element,  186 ;  xii. 
50,  57,  267;  we  are  strong  by  bor 
rowing  the  might  of  the  elements, 
vii.  32? 

Strikes,  iv.  222. 

Study,  victims  of,  iv.  149. 

Stupidity,  a  saving,  v.  134. 

Sturleson,  Snorro,  v.  59 ;  vii.  197. 

Style,  betrays,  viii.  36. 

Styx  of  experience,  x.  240,  461. 

Subjectiveness,  iii.  77;  is  intellectual 
selfishness,  xii.  180. 

Subject,  your  subject  must  appear  the 
flower  of  the  world,  viii.  37. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


339 


Sublime,  meaning  of,  vi.  33,  216. 

Suburbs  of  nature,  i.  111. 

SUCCESS,  vii.  265-293 ; conditions, 

iv.  125 ;  vi.  56,  72, 100, 114, 136,  262  ; 
vii.  176 ;  viii.  219,  325  ;  x.  21,  24  ;  is 
the  doing,  i.  174 ;  base  estimate  of, 
ii.  93;  iii.  85;  vi.  80;  made  up  of 
failures,  x.  60 ;  forever  good,  ix.  33  ; 
idolatry  of,  vii.  272  ;  perils  of,  i.  176, 
223 ;  treads  on  every  right  step, 
103,  174;  ii.  188;  self -trust  the 
first  secret  of,  vii.  276;  is  in  the 
work,  not  in  what  is  said  of  it,  vi. 
215. 

Succession,  necessity  of,  iii.  47, 58,  83 ; 
iv.  168. 

Suction,  content  in,  viii.  169. 

Suffering,  religion  of,  i.  209 ;  iii.  87 ; 
shallowness,  52  ;  x.  188 ;  xii.  270. 

Suffrage,  universal,  iii.  200 /;  viii. 
219 ;  x.  38  ;  for  women,  xi.  350 /. 

Suggestiveness,  everything  a  sugges 
tion,  ii.  285 ;  viii.  172 ;  xii.  40. 

Suicide,  skepticism  is,  viii.  134 ;  x. 
236. 

Summer,  i.  24,  119;  of  the  spirit, 
79. 

SUMNER,  CHARLES,  ASSAULT  UPON,  xi. 
231-237. 

Sumptuary  laws,  vi.  104. 

Sumter,  Fort,  xi.  321. 

Sun,  borrows  its  beams,  vi.  302 ;  im 
age  in  eclipse,  x.  16 ;  seen  by  few,  i. 
14;  forgotten,  ix.  33;  telling  hour 
by,  ii.  83 ;  insipid,  vi.  242 ;  a  lamp- 
wick,  x.  214;  lick  away,  vii.  74; 
sprang  from  man,  i.  75 ;  ii.  212  ;  ix. 
122 ;  man  would  pluck  down,  i.  292 ; 
radius  -  vector,  viii.  27 ;  snubbing, 
287  ;  sowing  for  seed,  i.  244  ;  system 
made  by,  xii.  16;  not  troubled  at 
waste  of  rays,  ii.  206 ;  better  method 
than  the  wind,  i.  241. 

Sunday,  core  of  civilization,  vii.  128 ; 
x.  108,  117,  226  f;  Sunday  objec 
tions,  iv.  165 ;  x.  344 ;  xi.  215.  See, 
also,  Sabbath. 

Sunday-schools,  dead  weight  of,  ii. 
129 /;  iii.  66. 

SUNBISE,  ix.  285 ; i.  23. 

Sunset,  i.  23,  204 ;  iii.  167, 184 ;  vi.  78 ; 
vii.  283 ;  quoted,  viii.  179. 

Sunshine,  iii.  33;  vi.  250 /. 

Superficialness  of  our  lives  and  our 
thinking,  i.  170,  187;  x.  234;  xii. 
258. 

Superfluities,  beauty  the  purgation  of, 
iii.  247  ;  vi.  279. 

Superiority,  each  has  some,  iii.  266; 
vii.  267  ;  x.  49 ;  in  what  it  consists, 
xii.  58. 


Superiors,  each  man  prefers  the  soci 
ety  of,  iii.  260 ;  vii.  17  ;  viii.  302 ;  x. 
39,  54,  102,  378. 

SUPERLATIVE,  THE,  x.  157-174 ; iii. 

135. 

Supernatural,  x.  191. 

Superstition,  vi.  139 ;  xi.  167 ;  xii.  94, 
263  ;  consequences  of  displacing,  ii. 
33,  93  ;  vi.  199  ;  x.  194,  198. 

Supper,  good  basis  for  club,  vii. 
233 /. 

Supplementary,  men  supplementary  to 
each  department  of  nature,  viii. 
288. 

Surfaces,  we  live  amid,  iii.  62,  231;  vi. 
257,  274 ;  vii.  175,  279 ;  ix.  122 ;  x. 
133,  215 ;  xii.  119. 

Surmises  have  value,  i.  73. 

Surprises,  life  a  series  of,  ii.  298 ;  iii. 
69 /;  ix.  193. 

SURSUM  CORDA,  ix.  80. 

Suspicion,  we  suspect  what  we  our 
selves  are,  vi.  214  ;  xii.  265. 

Suum  cuique,  ix.  238. 

Swainish  people,  viii.  95. 

Swamp,  i.  164 ;  x.  181. 

SWEDENBORG,  EMANUEL,  IV.  89-139  }  ix. 

191 ; angels,  vii.  12  ;  viii.  221 ; 

and  Charles  XII.,  vii.  252  ;  needed 
no  sanction  from  church,  iii.  265 ; 
on  discernment,  ii.  262 ;  on  English 
centrality,  v.  46;  fame,  xi.  332; 
Fourier,  coincidence  with,  x.  329; 
on  false  speaking,  ii.  149 ;  on  grav 
ity  as  symbol  of  faith,  x.  21 ;  sepa 
rate  heaven  of  the  English,  v.  126, 
230;  that  each  man  makes  his 
own  heaven,  viii.  310  ;  Hebraism, 

38  ;   influence,  x.  311 ;  hatred  of  in 
tellect,  341;   knowledge  and  prac 
tice,  i.  211  ;   philosophy  of  life,  112  ; 
and  Plato,  iv.  42,  86;    preaching, 
ix.   244;    proprium,   viii.   290;   re 
form  in  philosophy,  67  ;  on  love  of 
rule,  x.  120 ;  sandy  diffuseness,  iv. 
118  ;  second  sight,  viii.  311 ;  sect,  xi. 
347;  sexes,  346;   on  solitude,  vii. 
12;   solidarity  of  souls,  viii.    189; 
translates  things  into  thoughts,  iii. 

39  ;  viii.  25 ;  value,  i.  112. 

Swift,  Jonathan,  iv.  144  ;  v.  223  ;  viii. 

299  ;  xii.  70,  146. 

Swing,  going  to  heaven  in  a,  x.  322. 
Symbolism,  i.  32,  34,  371 ;  ii.  210 ;  iii. 

18-40,  74  ;  iv.  67,  112-117 ;  vi.  288 ; 

vii.  89,  202 ;  viii.  15-30,  38,  71 ;  x. 

131 ;  xii.   18 ;  a  good  symbol   the 

best  evidence,  viii.  181.    See,  also, 

Emblems. 
Symmetry,  the  whole  society  needed 

to  give  symmetry,  iii.  60,  216;  vi. 


GENERAL  INDEX 


340 


127 ;  viii.  14 ;  xii.  18  ;  in  moving  ob 
jects,  277  ;  in  things,  ii.  104. 

Sympathy,   base,  ii.  77,  245;   Hi.   78, 
134  ;   vi.  128,  252  ;  secret  of  social  | 
BUCCCSS,  137  ;  iv.  18,  171 ;  vii.  1G,  18,  j 
283 ;  viii.  277  ;  x.  154,  225 ;  xi.  173 ;  j 
xii.  20,  29. 

Synthesis,  iv.  56. 

System,  need  of,  vi.  114 ;  tyrannical,  I 
120. 

Table,  golden,  x.  62;  manners,  viii. 
85,  97  ;  men  social  at,  vii.  233 ;  rap 
pers,  x.  30 ;  talk,  vii.  199. 

Tacitus  quoted,  v.  51,  70,  85,  88. 

Tact,  viii.  97. 

Tactics,  Napoleon's,  i.  174. 

Talent,  talents,  aristocracy  based  on, 
x.  43 ;  a  call,  ii.  134  ;  at  the  expense 
of  character,  299  ;  vi.  38  ;  x.  265  ; 
sinks  with  character,  vi.  208,  244 ; 
charm,  vii.  218  ;  communicable,  viii. 

217  ;  of  no  use  to  cold  and  defective 
natures,   iii.   54;   defined,  xii.   44;  | 
demonstration   of,  51;  dreaded,  vi.  | 
38 ;   drowned  in,  x.   265 ;  each  has  j 
some,  iii.  208  ;  expiation,  208 ;  expres-  i 
sion  pays  tax  on,  266  ;  and  genius,  i.  j 
159  ;  iv.  163 ;  x.  263,  265,  270  ;  your  | 
gift  better  than  another's,  ii.  81 ;  for  i 
government,  i.  364 ;  integrity  dwarfs,  | 
vi.  263  ;  and  central  intelligence,  vii.  | 
278  ;  literary  talent  a  youthful  effer-  j 
vescence,  301 ;  mischievous,  vi.  132  ; 
enriches  the  community  of  nations,  | 
103 ;  partiality,  iv.  202 ;  perception 
outruns,  vii.  283;  popular  idea,  ii.  | 

218  ;  poverty  and  solitude  bring  out, 
vi.  246  ;  practical  bias,  viii.  291 ;  for 
private  ends,  x.  85  ;  respect  for,  iv.  j 
267;   sacrifice   to,   xii.   52;   scholar 
needs,  x.  269  ;  and  sensibility,  vii. 
278  ;  sincerity  basis  of,  xii.  28,  58  ; 
special,  iii.  60  ;  speed,  xii.  45  ;  supple 
mentary,  x.  337 ;  for  talent's  sake, 
viii.   218;   temptations,  i.   269;   no 
excuse  for  transgressions,  ii.  219; 
veils  wisdom,   iv.   269 ;    value,   vi. 
80  ;  vii.  176  ;  young  admire,  vi.  217. 

Taliessin,  exile,  ix.  315 ;  quoted,  viii. 

59 /. 
Talismans,  ix.  33,  62  ;  x.  25,  126  ;  xi. 

172. 
Talk  and  talkers,  vii.  76,  214 /,  220; 

talking  for  victory,  viii.  96. 
Talleyrand,  vii.  272  ;  quoted,  iv.  256 ; 

v.  273  ;  vi.  255  ;  viii.  85. 
Talma,  vi.  164. 
Tamerlane,  viii.  164,  238. 
Tantalus,  ii.  35  ;  vii.  157. 
Tariff,  of  moral  values,  ii.  102,  118 ; 


iv.  26  ;  to  give  prefeience  to  worse 

wares,  vi.  214 //  xi.  281. 
Tasks,   as  duties,  ii.  74 ;  iii.  269 ;  vi. 

304 ;   vii.   276 ;    life-preservers,    vi. 

221,  261 ;  we  are  to  know  our  own, 

xi.  205. 
Tasso,  ii.  219. 
Taste    a    sensual     appreciation     of 

beauty,  i.  28 ;  iii.  9, 135  ;  xi.  342  ;  xii. 

118. 
Taxes,    the    debts    most    unwillingly 

paid,  iii.  206  ;  xi.  281,  299  ;  English, 

v.  151  ;  taxation  of  women's  prop 
erty,  xi.  354. 
Taylor,  Edward  T.  ("  Father  "),  viii. 

112,  301;  x.  222,  353. 
Taylor,   Jeremy,  ix.  17  ;  x.  Ill,  196, 

218 ;  xii.  95. 
Taylor,  Thomas,  v.  280  ;  vii.  193  ;  viii. 

52. 
Tea,  sentiment  in  a  chest  of,  iv.  147  ; 

viii.  266;  ix.  182^. 
Teachers  and  teaching,  ii.   144,  269, 

319 ;  milestones  of  progress,  iv.  37  ; 

vi.  141  ;  xi.  222.     See  Education. 
Teeth,  significance,  vi.  174. 
Telegraph,   electric,   v.   157  ;   vii.  31, 

154 /,  240  ;  viii.  133,  138 ;  ix.  23, 167, 

174. 
Telescope,   vi.   97  ;   partial  action  of 

each  mind  a,  iii.  81 ;  v.  77. 
Temper,    useful    defect  of,    ii.    113; 

neutralizing  acid,  x.  225. 
Temperament,  the  wire  on  which  the 

beads    are    strung,   iii.   47,   54-57 ; 

v.  54,  130  ;  vi.  15,  56,  77,  233  ;  vii. 

63,  250  /;  viii.  79;  x.  46,  75;  xi. 

348  //    resists    the    impression  of 

pain,  xii.  270. 
Temperance,    mean    and    heroic,    ii. 

237  ;  iii.  252  ;  v.  162  ;  x.  159. 
Temperate  zone,  vii.  29  ;  x.  171 ;  of 

our  being,  iii.  65. 
Temple,  a  thought  like  a,  ii.  260  ;    iv. 

124 ;  in  the  heart,  vi.  196,  290. 
Temptation,  we  gain  the  strength 

we  resist,  ii.  114,  127. 
Ten    commandments,    vegetable  and 

animal  functions  echo,  i.  46 ;  vii.  27  ; 

x.  119. 

Ten  Thousand,  Xenophon's,  iii.  100. 
Tenacity,  badge  of  great  mind,  v.  98 ; 

x.  60. 
Tendencies,  not  deeds  but,  i.  205,  236 ; 

x.  65. 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  v.  243 /,  249;  xii. 

229  ff;  quoted,  ii.  248 ;  xii.  206. 
Tense,  the  strong  present,  iii.  66. 
Tents  of  life,  ii.  120,  178,  211 ;  ix. 

280 ;  xi.  344. 
TERMINUS,  ix.  216  /. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


341 


Terror  shuts  the  eyes  of  mind  and 
heart,  vii.  244 ;  xii.  264.  See,  also, 
Fear. 

TEST,  THE,  ix.  189. 

Tests  of  men,  vi.  248  ;  vii.  289. 

Teutonic  traits,  v.  114. 

Thackeray.  William  M.,  v.  219,  234, 
256. 

Thames  River,  v.  44. 

Thanks  humiliating,  iii.  157. 

Theatres,   iv.  183;  vii.  205;   viii.  30. 

Theban  Phalanx,  x.  61,  309. 

Thebes,  xii.  26. 

Theism,  argument  for,  vii.  154 ;  puri 
fication  of  the  human  mind,  iv.  11. 

Theology,  x.  32,  109,  113,  199,  218; 
men  are  better  than  their  theology, 
i.  142  ;  ii.  93  ;  vi.  205  ;  xi.  382  ;  the 
ological  problems  the  soul's  mumps 
and  measles,  ii.  126  ;  the  rhetoric  of 
morals,  x.  109. 

Theory,  test  of,  i.  10 ;  and  practice, 
x.  149,  256,  334 ;  xii.  46. 

There  and  then,  preposterous,  ii.  16. 

Thermometer,  nature  a  thermometer 
of  the  divine  sentiment,  iii.  172; 
of  Civilization,  xi.  193  ;  of  fashion, 
411. 

Thermopylae,  vi.  238 ;  vii.  257. 

Theseus,  iii.  90. 

Thief,  steals  from  himself,  iii.  110, 
112. 

THINE  EYES  STILL  SHINED,  ix.  88 /. 

Things,  i.  44 ;  iii.  232  ;  education  to, 
244 ;  ride  mankind,  ix.  73. 

Thinkers  and  thinking,  i.  169,  269  ;  ii. 
154,  306,  308 ;  iii.  77,  85  ;  v.  212 ; 
vi.  29,  114  ;  x.  241.  See,  also, 
Thought. 

Third  party  in  conversation,  ii.  260. 

Third  person  plural,  age  of  the,  xi. 
419. 

Thomson's  "Seasons,"  viii.  27. 

Thor,  ii.  72 ;  v.  89,  157 ;  vi.  132,  303. 

THOREAU,  HENRY  D.,  x.  419-452; 

viii.  274  ;  ix.  44  ;  quoted,  x.  50,  87, 
335 ;  xii.  79. 

Thoreau,  Mrs.,  x.  383. 

Thought,  thoughts,  abiding,  i.  338  ; 
tends  to  pass  into  action,  ii.  154 ; 
vii.  41 ;  giving  actuality  to,  vi.  92 ; 
affinity,  xii.  21 ;  the  age  in,  i.  251 ; 
pent  air-ball,  vi.  273;  all  things 
from,  x.  259;  clothes  itself  with 
material  apparatus,  i.  27 ;  viii.  22, 
259 ;  xi.  191 ;  ascent,  viii.  29 ;  dis 
poses  the  attitudes  of  the  body, 
82 ;  must  have  fit  audience,  277  ;  un 
disciplined  will  has  bad  thoughts, 
vi.  305 ;  we  read  better  thoughts 
than  the  author  wrote,  viii.  187  ; 


believe  your  own,  vii.  275  ;  viii.  104 ; 
capital,  x.  78 ;  and  character,  vi.  31 ; 
every  thought  commanded  by  a 
higher,  ii.  283 ;  made  clearer  by 
unfolding,  viii.  90  ;  communication, 
ii.  312;  conditions,  vii.  217,  236; 
consecutiveuess,  viii.  258  ;  xii.  48  ; 
control,  ii.  306  ;  xii.  43  ;  gives 
courage,  viii.  312 ;  currents,  12 ; 
decay  of,  221;  x.  236;  dominion 
in  proportion  to  depth,  ii.  145 ;  vii. 
42 ;  x.  106  ;  devout,  i.  77  ;  diseases, 
iv.  171 ;  mastery  by  seeing  them  at  a 
distance,  viii.  322  ;  rush  of  thought 
in  dreams,  xii.  80 ;  ends  universal 
and  eternal,  iii.  73 ;  vii.  15 ;  makes 
fit  expression,  i.  133,  180;  iii.  15; 
vi.  183  ;  viii.  22,  24,  54  ;  x.  225;  xii. 
38 ;  few,  viii.  171 ;  makes  fit  for  use, 
iii.  22  ;  must  be  formulated,  xii.  42  ; 
makes  free,  vi.  29 ;  and  friendship, 
i.  180  ;  fugitive,  viii.  258 ;  of  God,  vii. 
261 ;  viii.  20  ;  x.  88  ;  growth,  xii.  17, 
24 ;  taken  by  the  right  handle,  ii.  226 ; 
from  heart,  viii.  217  ;  xi.  211 ;  not 
hidden,  i.  180 ;  hospitality  to,  276  ; 
vi.  187;  individual  is  partial,  vii. 
235 ;  unequal,  viii.  256 ;  inexhaust 
ible,  i.  176 ;  inspired,  iii.  35 ;  x.  132  ; 
institutions  founded  on,  ii.  152 ;  x. 
89  ;  insulated,  vii.  311 ;  interference 
with,  ii.  263 ;  intoxication,  viii.  281 ; 
keys  of,  i.  96,  103  ;  the  key  to  every 
man,  ii.  283 ;  and  manual  labor,  i. 
230 ;  lateral,  not  vertical,  187  ;  re 
vises  life,  ii.  152 ;  as  living  char 
acters,  vii.  209  ;  xii.  80 ;  measure  of 
man,  vii.  119 ;  masters  of,  ii.  322 ; 
and  matter,  see  under  Matter  ;  each 
has  its  proper  melody,  vii.  49; 
method,  ii.  309,  311 ;  air  of  mind, 
vii.  213 ;  miracle,  ii.  312  ;  viii.  258  ; 
unity  with  morals,  x.  178 ;  and 
nature,  see  under  Nature ;  needs  of, 
x.  267  ;  lift  Olympus,  i.  166  ;  go  in 
pairs,  vii.  217  ;  at  |  first  j  possess  us, 
then  we  them,  xii.  40 ;  power,  vi. 
46 ;  x.  79,  225,  241 ;  xi.  191 ;  practi 
cal,  xii.  42 ;  prisons,  ii.  316  ;  iii.  36  ; 
production,  conditions  of,  ii.  313 ; 
vi.  85 ;  the  more  profound  the  more 
burdensome,  vii.  42;  iii.  73,  193; 
x.  239;  xi.  179;  all  have  property 
in,  ii.  260 ;  iv.  189 ;  prosperity  has 
its  root  in  a  thought,  i.  232;  vii. 
279 ;  viii.  258 ;  provocation,  vii.  217  ; 
pure,  poison,  213  ;  let  us  into 
realities,  viii.  258  ;  results,  x.  76 ; 
retrospective,  xii.  19  ;  penurious 
rill,  47  ;  saliency,  54 ;  in  savage, 
viii.  256 ;  self-publishing,  xi.  289  ; 


342 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


imbosomed  in  sentiment,  x.  179; 
wear  no  silks,  vi.  306 ;  sky-language, 
xii.  18;  no  solitary,  19;  beyond 
soul's  reach,  viii.  260 ;  source, 
ii.  252 ;  vast  spaces  in,  xii.  206 ; 
fugitive  sparkles,  48 ;  speak  your 
own,  ii.  47/;  viii.  92;  stock  in, 
x.  78 ;  succession  illusory,  vi.  302 ; 
must  be  tempered  with  affection  and 
practice,  vii.  213  ;  a  sword,  x.  133  ; 
thread  on  which  all  things  are 
strung,  iv.  162 ;  xii.  138 ;  out  of 
time,  ii.  256;  twilights  of,  x.  24; 
value,  xii.  37  ;  vortices,  viii.  13  ; 
waited  on,  i.  230 ;  walk  and  speak, 
250;  other  wants  come  from  want 
of  thoughts,  232  ;  and  will,  28,  71 ; 
ii.  306;  always  clothes  itself  with 
words,  viii.  37  ;  xii.  67  ;  rule  world, 
iii.  207  ;  viii.  24,  217  ;  x.  89 ;  writer's 
grasp,  viii.  37. 

Threat,  refreshment  of,  i.  146 ;  more 
formidable  than  the  stroke,  vii. 
250. 

THRENODY,  ix.  130-138. 

Thrift,  true,  vi.  124;  low,  vii.  108. 
See,  also,  Economy,  Frugality. 

Thucydides  quoted,  vii.  74  ;  x.  293. 

Tides,  made  to  do  our  work,  vii.  32, 
46 ;  of  thought,  x.  131,  211 ;  xi. 
188. 

Ties,  human,  ii.  195,  204 ;  moral,  vi. 
263. 

Timseus,  iv.  44. 

Time,  for  affairs  and  for  thought,  ii. 
296 ;  iii.  44,  86  ;  iv.  26  ;  animals  have 
no  value  for,  x.  152  ;  consoler,  xii. 
269;  child  of  eternity,  i.  273;  vii. 
175 ;  dissipates  the  angularity  of 
facts,  ii.  14;  finder,  vii.  311;  of 
force  to  be  husbanded,  viii.  275  ;  in 
verse  measure  of  intellect,  ii.  256; 
killing,  x.  132  ;  laws,  ii.  216 ;  mea 
sure  spiritual,  not  mechanical,  vii. 
170  ;  omniscient,  311 ;  nature's  mea 
sure  of,  iii.  44;  poetry  shows  no 
mark  of,  i.  93 ;  poison,  vii.  300  ; 
value  of  present,  166 ;  problem  of, 
viii.  214  ;  prolific,  x.  132  ;  reformer, 
v.  109  ;  always  time  to  do  right,  viii. 
35 ;  river  of,  iii.  10  ;  slit  and  ped 
dled,  ii.  213;  iv.  26;  and  space,  i. 
61,  70 ;  physiological  colors  which 
the  eye  makes,  ii.  67  ;  painful  king 
dom,  163  ;  fugitive,  257  ;  should  be 
tried,  xii.  268;  inverse  measure  of 
force  of  soul,  i?.  256 ;  is  the  distribu 
tion  of  wholes  into  series,  vi.  302. 

Timeliness,  ii.  216 ;  vi.  86  ;  viii.  83. 

TIMES,  THE  LECTURE  ON,  i.  245-276 ; 
109  ;  vi.  9,  421. 


Timidity,  vii.  243  ;  mark  of  wrong,  ii. 

108. 

Timeoleon,  ii.  127  ;  xii.  159. 
Tin  pans,  Homer  and  Milton  may  be, 

viii.  69. 

Tisso,  Prince,  vi.  270. 
Tithonus,  vii.  302. 
Titles,  English,  v.  189. 
TITMOUSE,  THE,    ix.    200-203 ; i. 

163. 
Tobacco,  iii.  31 ;  vi.  301 ;  vii.  34.  300  ; 

ix.  30  ;  x.  240 ;  xi.  154. 
To-day,  all-importance  of  insight  into, 

i.  110, 158  ;  king  in  disguise,  255  ;  iii. 

51,  63;  vii.  166/,-  viii.  258  ;  x.  371  ; 

xi.  418,  420  ;  xii.  81.    See,  also,  Day, 

Present,  Time. 
Toil,  viii.  294 ;  ix.  61 ;  xi.  423.    See, 

also,  Labor,  Work. 
To-morrow,   power  of,   ii.    216,   285, 

298  ;  viii.  269  ;  x.  371. 
Tongue,  iv.  47;  vi.  53;  vii.  74;  viii. 

215  ;  ix.  274  ;  xii.  143,  175. 
Tonics,  best,  vii.  213 ;  viii.  260. 
Tooke,  Home,  quoted;  vi.  263;  viii. 

296. 
Tools,   vi.  36,  79,   89,  136 ;   vii.   151, 

156  ;  x.  145  ;  xii.  70  ;  run  away  with 

the  man,  i.  199 ;  vii.  157. 
Torch,  man  a  torch  borne  in  the  wind, 

x.  262. 

Torrid  zone,  animated,  ix.  39. 
Toussaint  L'Ouverture,  iii.  94  ;  x.  51 ; 

xi.  172. 

Town-incrusted  sphere,  ix.  68. 
Town-meetings,  vii.  246 ;  viii.  100, 113 ; 

xi.  50,  410  ;  advantages  of,  vi.  142  ; 

xi.  46,  50,  409. 
Towns  have  their  explanation  each  in 

some  man,  vi.  45  ;  ix.  49.    See,  also, 

Cities,  Country. 
Toys,  instructive,  iii.  178 ;  vi.  43,  297, 

301 ;  vii.  121,  165 ;  viii.  144. 
Trade,  selfish,  i.  220 /V  iii.  244;  iv. 

145  ;  301, 357 /;  custom  of,  does  not 

excuse,  ii.  133 ;  not  intrinsically  un 
fit,  iii.  92 ;  v.  85  ;  educative,  vi.  104, 

107  ;  the  greatest  meliorator  of  the 

world,  vii.  159  ;  ix.  25  ;  x.  128  ;  xi. 

153,  184,  413 /;  puts  men  in  false 

relations  to  each  other,  iii.  244 ;  a 

constant  teaching  of   the  laws  of 

matter  and  of  mind,  x.  128. 
Tradition,  i.  139 ;  iv.  187  ;  v.  56 ;  x. 

116,  191,  209 ;  xi.  268. 
Tragedy,  transitoriness  the  essence  of, 

iii.  59;iv.  175;  vii.  14 /. 
TRAGIC,  THE,  xii.  260-272. 
Trances,  ii.  264;  iv.  95.  See,  also, 

under  Swedenborg. 
Tranquillity,  mark  of  greatness,  i.  48 ; 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


343 


vii.  114,  121,  293 ;  viii.  88 ;  x.  65, 
153 ;  xii.  267,  269. 
Transcendency    in    poetry,  viii.   70- 

Traiiscendentalism,  i.  249  ;  ii.  294  ;  x. 
323.  See  below. 

TRANSCENDENTALIST,  THE,  i.  309-339. 

Transference  of  forces,  x.  73. 

Transfiguration,  Raphael's,  i.  337  ;  of 
things,  viii.  28. 

Transformations,  iii.  39 ;  v.  64  ;  viii. 
11. 

Transition,  power  resides  in,  ii.  69, 
171 ;  iii.  37,  58  ;  vi.  71, 277  ;  vii.  173 ; 
viii.  274;  xii.  54 /. 

TRANSLATIONS,  ix.  244-250. 

Translations,  benefit,  vii.  194 /. 

Translator,  philosopher  a,  ii.  321. 

Transmigration  of  souls,  ii.  35  ;  iv.  94, 
120,  139 ;  viii.  308. 

Transmission  of  qualities,  x.  37. 

Transparency  of  body,  vi.  170,  272  ; 
xi.  172. 

Travellers,  ii.  272  ;  v.  129  ;  viii.  279. 

Travelling,  i.  164 ;  benefits,  ii.  79 ;  iii. 
31 ;  iv.  10  ;  v.  8  ;  vi.  139,  252. 

Trees  :  thrifty,  grow  in  spite  of  blight, 
vi.  61 ;  growth,  vii.  142 ;  ix.  282 ;  xii. 
23,  29,  50.  See,  also,  Forests, 
Groves,  "Woods. 

Trimmers,  v.  120. 

Trinity,  xi.  22. 

Trinity  of  beauty,  truth,  and  goodness, 
i.  335 ;  vii.  59. 

Trolls,  v.  77,  131. 

Tropes,  iii.  33  ff ';  vi.  307;  vii.  89  ;  viii. 
17,  20.  See,  also,  Symbols. 

Tropics,  ii.  214 ;  viii.  148. 

True,  the,  heartlessness  of,  i.  335. 

Trust,  i.  105;  ii.  274,  278;  vi.  262;  x. 
187;  thyself,  ii.  49 ;  trust  men  and 
they  will  be  true  to  you,  223. 

Truth,  absolute,  vi.  197;  abstract,  i. 
10  ;  ii.i304, 309  ;  must  be  acted  upon, 
i.  211 ;  adorer  of,  iv.  276 ;  vi.  290 ; 
apprehension  of,  i.  10,  70,  166;  ii. 
264  ;  xii.  30  ;  basis  of  aristocracy,  x. 
43 ;  the  only  armor,  vi.  219 ;  unity 
with  .beauty,  i.  59 ;  the  summit  of 
being,  iii.  95 ;  tyrannizes  over  the 
body,  ii.  148 ;  centre  and  circumfer 
ence,  viii.  210  ;  root  of  character, vi 
305  ;  conditions  of  right  perception 
i.  126,  211 ;  vi.  34,  114 ;  needs  no 
confirmation  from  events,  iii.  98  ; 
men  of  the  world  value  it  for  its 
convenience,  x.  166 ;  reception  of, 
balanced  by  denial,  i.  285 ;  all  men 
unwillingly  deprived  of,  iii.  257;  the 
search  for,  derided,  i.  178 ;  glad  to 
die  for,  ix.  243;  x.  98, 188;  discern- 


ment  of,  i.  211;  ii.  262;  distorted 
by  fastening  on  a  single  aspect,  315 ; 
draws  to  truth,  viii.  211 ;  seems  less 
to  reside  in  the  eloquent,  ii.  319  ; 
English,  v.  114-123 ;  essence,  xii.  34 ; 
conveys  a  hint  of  eternity,  vii.  96, 
289 ;  expands  us  to  its  dimensions, 
iv.  176;  vi.  30;  does  not  involve 
ability  to  express  it,  iii.  181 ;  expres 
sion  of,  comes  from  clear  perception, 
viii.  37 ;  we  are  learning  not  to  fear 
it,  x.  204 ;  firm  ground,  171  ;  pre 
ferred  to  flattery,  iii.  259  ;  allowed 
with  friends,  ii.  193 ;  vi.  184 ;  badge 
of  gentleman,  v.  116 ;  German  ref 
erence  to,  iv.  267;  give  me,  ix.  122; 
not  divorced  from  goodness,  i.  210  ; 
iii.  203 ;  iv.  126 ;  answers  to  gravi 
tation,  viii.  210 ;  alone  makes  great, 
ii.  152 ;  x.  268 ;  handsomer  than  af 
fectation  of  love,  ii.  53 ;  humility  the 
avenue  to,  x.  179 ;  immortal,  ii.  305 ; 
laws  of  imparting,  x.  101 ;  not  hurt 
by  our  fall  from  it,  189 ;  not  to  be 
labelled  with  any  one's  name,  ii. 
261 ;  lantern  for  other  facts,  310 ; 
life  in  union  with  truth  gives  poetic 
speech,  viii.  69 ;  love  of,  iii.  259, 
264  ;  magnetism  of,  xi.  334 ;  makes 
man,  x.  187;  every  man  a  lover  of, 
iii.  263 ;  no  monopoly,  ii.  261 ;  iii. 
181 ;  viii.  183,  295 ;  x.  99 ;  nature 
helps,  i.  123 ;  vi.  210 ;  in  new  dress, 
viii.  18  ;  new  supersedes  old,  ii.  290 ; 
not  obsolete,  vii.  59 ;  offered  to  all, 
ii.  318;  all  things  its  organs,  147; 
may  be  spoken  in  poetry,  not  in 
prose,  viii.  54 ;  policy  enough,  i.  177; 
power,  vi.  219 ;  prayer  a  study  of,  i. 
77;  in  the  commonplaces  of  preach 
ing,  137;  a  preserver,  viii.  169,  323 ; 
must  prevail,  xi.  190 ;  not  shut  up 
in  propositions,  iii.  233 ;  expresses 
relation  that  holds  true  throughout 
nature,  i.  49 ;  x.  181 ;  not  received 
at  second-hand,  i.  126  ;  the  attempt 
to  report,  ii.  307;  screens  against, 
iii.  132  ;  the  rich  can  speak,  vii.  137; 
search  for,  endless,  ii.  298,  319 ;  iii. 
233,  235 ;  x.  132 ;  service,  ix.  105  ; 
xi.  199 ;  all  on  the  side  of,  vi.  193  ; 
x.  256 ;  sides,  i.  50 ;  too  simple  for 
us,  x.  109,  227;  speaking,  i.  123 ;  h". 
72,  246 ;  vi.  155,  185 ;  xi.  273 ;  spirit 
woos  us,  i.  211 ;  starlit  deserts,  179 ; 
a  statement  for  every  one,  vi.  193  ; 
vii.  91 ;  summit  of  being,  iii.  95 ; 
tart,  xi.  271 ;  translation,  210 ;  un 
hurt  by  treachery,  x.  188 ;  univer 
sal,  ii.  130 ;  x.  96 ;  wholesome,  iv. 
63 ;  worship,  ii.  318. 


344 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Tuba,  viii.  230,  242. 

Tuitions,  ii.  164. 

Turgot  quoted,  i.  GO. 

Turks,  vi.  11. 

Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  described,  v.  131. 

Turtles,  the  thoughts  of  a  turtle  are 

turtles,  xii.  50. 

Two  cannot  go  abreast,  ii.  249. 
Two-Face,  iii.  233. 
Twoshoes,  vii.  103. 
Tyburn  of  Jews,  iii.  111. 
Tyler,  John,  vii.  14. 
Types,  ii.  98 ;  viii.  178 ;  the  material 

the  type  of  spiritual,  v.  19. 
Tyranny,  of  genius,  ii.  331 ;  iii.  40, 228  ; 

of  the  present,  164 ;  viii.  12. 

Ugliness,  iii.  23 ;  vi.  284 ;  viii.  164. 

Ulysses,  vii.  73  ;  x.  45. 

Umbrellas,  v.  104,  241 ;  vi.  146. 

Unattainable,  the,  ii.  281. 

Unbarrelable,  truth,  i.  166. 

Unbelief,  our  torment,  i.  268  ;  iv.  172 ; 
ages  of,  mean,  x.  198,  204,  212. 

Uncles  and  aunts,  xii.  251. 

Uncontinented  deep,  ix.  68. 

Understanding,  i.  42,  279  ;  vi.  58  ;  vii. 
215.  See,  also,  Reason. 

Understanding  others,  ii.  138,  286  ;  iii. 
236 ;  iv.  47. 

Understatement,  rhetoric  of,  x.  164. 

Undertaker's  secrets,  x.  26. 

Undulation,  principle  of,  i.  99;  ii. 
309. 

Unfriendliness,  ii.  226. 

Ungrateful  space,  ii.  206. 

Unhandselled  savage,  i.  100. 

Unhappiness,  unproductive,  ii.  330. 

Uniformity,  neat  and  safe,  x.  137. 

Unifying  instinct,  i.  87. 

Union,  has  no  basis  but  the  good  pleas 
ure  of  the  majority,  i.  368  ;  ix.  179  ; 
xi.  162,  216 /,  245,  248,  285;  perfect 
only  when  the  uniters  are  isolated, 
iii.  253.  See,  also,  United  States. 

Unitarianism,  i.  320  ;  ix.  123  ;  x.  112  ; 
xi.  22,  116;  the  pale  negations  of, 
196,  377. 

United  States,  civil  war  in,  v.  22; 
vii.  246;  viii.  113,  139,  197;  x.  246; 
xi.  101-128,  275-322;  constitution, 
219,  421;  democracy,  vi.  63;  xi. 
408;  disunion,  247;  eloquence,  viii. 
128  ;  freedom,  ix.  173  ;  govern 
ment,  xi.  255,  411 ;  prosperity,  viii. 

Units  of  society,  i.  85,  114  ;  iv.  110 /. 

UNITY,  ix.  236  ; of  man,  i.  106  ;  ii. 

252;  iii.  79,  221,  266;  vi.  47;  of 
mind,  ii.  260 ;  xii.  184 ;  of  nature,  i. 
48,  71,  77;  iv.  49 /;  v.  226;  vi.  30 ; 


viii.  13/,23,  212;  xii.  18;  of  soci 
ety,  ii.  85 ;  of  thought  and  morals  in 
all  animated  nature,  x.  178 ;  of  the 
world,  vi.  50,  290  ;  xii.  58. 

Universalist,  every  man  a,  iii.  234. 

Universality,  iv.  103,  107;  v.  228 /, 
232 ;  xii.  50. 

Universals,  science  of,  i.  195 ;  iii.  232. 

Universe,  alive,  ii.  99 ;  we  need  not 
assist,  iii.  269 ;  beauty  its  creator,  i. 
30  ;  iii.  13  ;  nest  of  boxes,  viii.  316  ; 
bride  of  soul,  iii.  78 ;  its  children, 
12 ;  wears  our  color,  80  ;  conversa 
tion  gives  glimpses  of,  vi.  258  ;  end, 
92 ;  our  expectations  of,  iii.  64  ;  im 
mensity,  i.  45;  property  of  every 
individual,  25 ;  law,  x.  27 ;  man's 
part  in,  i.  9 ;  iii.  30 ;  x.  131 ;  of  na 
ture  and  soul,  i.  10 ;  Newton  on,  viii. 
213  ;  represented  in  each  particle, 
ii.  95,  98 ;  paths  in,  xii.  38 ;  moral 
sentiment  converts  into  a  personal 
ity,  iv.  93  ;  a  pound,  iii.  95  ;  prayer 
to,  i.  327;  prophetic,  viii.  212 ;  pro 
tects  itself  by  publicity,  vi.  214  ;  its 
simplicity  not  that  of  a  machine,  ii. 
131  ;  the  externization  of  the  soul, 
iii.  19 ;  holds  man  to  his  task,  vi.  11, 
228  ;  unhurt,  ii.  125,  132. 

Universities,  iii.  246 ;  v.  203  ff;  vi. 
150 ;  xi.  227. 

Unjust,  happiness  of,  xi.  225. 

Unknown,  the  fear  of  remaining,  ii. 
149 ;  search  for  the,  iv.  64. 

Unpopularity,  penalty,  ii.  246. 

Unprincipled  men,  boasted  perform 
ances  of,  x.  244. 

Unproductive  classes,  vi.  252. 

Unpunctuality,  discomforts,  ii.  216. 

Unrelated,  no  man  is,  viii.  285. 

Unsaid,  soul  known  by  what  is  left 
unsaid,  ii.  261. 

Unseen,  we  reason  from  the  seen  to 
the  unseen,  ii.  139;  viii.  320;  x. 
309. 

Unsettled,  hope  for  him  who  is,  ii. 
297 /. 

Uranus,  fable,  i.  280. 

URIEL,  ix.  21-23. 

Usage,  drowsiness  of,  iii.  245. 
J  Use,  the  health  and  virtue  of  all  be 
ings,  i.  47;  vi.  120,  231,  274;  vii. 
248 ;  x.  85 ;  xi.  423.     See  below. 
\  Useful,  the,  not   detached  from  the 
beautiful,  ii.  341 ;    iii.  157 ;  vi.  26, 
152,  276  ;  viii.  301 ;  xi.  223. 
!  Usual,  to  be  wondered  at,  iii.  270. 
I  Utility,  ii.  210 /;  iii.  11 ;  English  pas 
sion  for,  v.  83,  235 ;  x.  58,  234. 

Utterance,  difference  in  the  power  of, 
viii.  235. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


345 


Vagabond,  intellect  is,  ii.  80  ;  viii. 
71. 

Valor  is  power  of  self-recovery,  ii. 
288. 

Valuations,  in  nature  no  false  valua 
tions,  iii.  100. 

Value,  i.  47 ;  vi.  104 ;  of  a  man,  viii. 
98. 

Vane,  Sir  Harry,  i.  26. 

Vane  always  east,  vi.  148. 

Vanity,  danger  from,  iii.  105 ;  expen 
sive,  vi.  111. 

Variety,  cardinal  fact  of,  iv.  49,  52. 

Varnhagen  von  Ense  quoted,  x.  106, 
110,  113. 

Varnish,  of  the  dew,  i.  155 ;  of  philan 
thropy,  ii.  53;  iv.  83;  of  manners, 
vi.  163,  180  ;  of  nature,  vii.  164. 

Vasari  quoted,  vii.  291;  xii.  87,  90, 
125,  127,  135. 

Vast,  the,  x.  133 ;  xii.  186. 

Vastation  of  souls,  iv.  126. 

Vastitudes  of  time  and  space,  viii. 
214. 

Vatican,  ii.  334. 

Vaticination,  parturient,  xii.  57. 

Vauvenargues  quoted,  x.  94. 

Vedas,  viii.  204  ;  ix.  239 ;  x.  73 ;  quoted, 
iv.  49/;  vii.  299. 

Vegetation,  viii.  147  ;  occult  relation 
of  man  and  vegetable,  i.  16  ;  ii.  175  : 
xii.  22. 

Vehicles  of  truth,  content  to  be,  i. 
369 ;  viii.  97. 

Vehicular,  language  only,  iii.  37. 

Veneration  never  dies  out,  i.  125 ;  x. 
213 ;  we  venerate  our  own  unreal 
ized  being,  i.  120. 

Venetian  traveller  in  England  quoted, 
v.  Ill,  122,  141. 

Venice,  v.  43. 

Venus,  vi.  277;  ix.  92 ;  in  art,  ii.  340. 

Versailles  courtiers,  i.  194. 

Verse  and  verse-making,  iv.  205  ;  viii. 
43,  55,  56,  58, 119 ;  ix.  189,  199.  See, 
also,  Poetry. 

Vesicles,  power  of  growth,  vi.  19. 

Vespucci,  Amerigo,  v.  148. 

"Vestiges  of  Creation,"  xi.  332. 

Vestry  of  verbs  and  texts  in  Sweden- 
borg,  iv.  117. 

Vice,  betrays  itself,  ii.  59,  111,  150  ;  the 
virtues  of  society  the  vices  of  the 
saint,  vi.  239,  245,  295;  we  ascribe 
our  own  to  others,  iii.  97 ;  pride 
eradicates,  vi.  Ill ;  people  wish  to 
be  saved  from  the  mischief  of  their 
vices,  not  from  their  vices,  iii.  82  ; 
popular  allowance  of,  vi.  202  ; 
viii.  299 ;  x.  114 ;  good  patriots,  vii. 
34. 


Victoria,  Queen,  v.  110,  185. 

Victory,  iii.  85,  90,  112 ;  v.  135,  211 ; 
vi.  216,  226,  285 ;  vii.  270,  272  ;  viii. 
96, 176,  214  ;  ix.  181 ;  x.  127;  xi.  177, 
221. 

Vienna,  iii.  183;  v.  142,  252. 

View,  difference  of  point  of  view,  ii. 
294. 

Vigor,  lesson  of,  iii.  74 ;  iv.  235 ;  vi. 
234  ;  contagious,  vi.  234. 

Viguier,  Pauline  de,  vi.  281. 

Village,  the  aesthetic,  xii.  254. 

Villagers,  we  are,  iii.  38 ;  vi.  12  ;  vii. 
121. 

Violin,  Bible  like  an  old,  viii.  173. 

Virgil,  ii.  141  ;  quoted,  vi.  45 ;  vii. 
312. 

Virginia,  xi.  133;  University  of,  ad 
dress  at,  x.  249. 

Virtue,  not  an  aggregate,  ii.  259 ;  not 
mere  amiability,  vi.  156 ;  animal,  iii. 
112 ;  attainment,  x.  84  ;  a  barrier,  i. 
220 ;  iv.  171 ;  x.  445 ;  opens  the  mind 
to  beauty,  i.  120 ;  xii.  138 ;  changes 
in  meaning,  i.  318  ;  ii.  293  ;  x.  181 ; 
xi.  333 ;  Christianity  loses  some  en 
ergy  of,  ii.  84 ;  end  of  creation,  i. 
121;  defined,  ii.  151,  255;  viii.  218; 
x.  190 ;  moral  deformity  is  good  pas 
sion  out  of  place,  vi.  245 ;  devils  re 
spect,  ii.  150;  like  diamonds,  best 
plain-set,  vii.  112;  distrust  in,  vi. 
201 ;  earth  and  sea  conspire  with, 
vii.  54 ;  economist,  vi.  Ill ;  Euripi 
des  on,  ii.  240 ;  as  exceptions,  54 ; 
none  final,  295 ;  fool  of,  vi.  307  ; 
essential  to  freedom,  x.  87 ;  genius 
in,  viii.  261 ;  geographical,  i.  266 ; 
loved  for  its  grace,  iv.  205 ;  great 
ness,  the  perception  that  virtue  is 
enough,  ii.  240 ;  is  health,  x.  46 ;  is 
height,  ii.  70;  Imperial  Guard,  i. 
146 ;  incommunicable,  iv.  32  ;  inspi 
ration,  69;  golden  key,  i.  68;  the 
highest  always  against  law,  vi.  226  ; 
a  luxury,  90 ;  manifest  and  occult, 
x.  27;  no  merit,  ii.  127  ;  minor,  222, 
muniments  of,  vi.  212 ;  natural,  ii. 
259 ;  occasional,  x.  344 ;  and  order, 
i.  305 ;  not  to  be  paraded,  ii.  127 ; 
the  past  works  in  the  present  action, 
60 ;  no  penalty  to,  117 ;  not  a  pen 
ance,  54 ;  not  piecemeal,  iii.  250  ; 
source  of  power,  ii.  Ill ;  prizes,  x. 
61 ;  procession,  ii.  293 ;  essence  of 
religion,  i.  121 ;  x.  212 ;  reward,  ii. 
202 ;  coincidence  with  science,  iv. 
81 ;  fashion  is  virtue  gone  to  seed, 
iii.  125 ;  separates  from  the  state, 
265 ;  x.  445 ;  not  a  struggle,  ii.  127, 
259;  secures  its  own  success,  vii. 


346 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


97  ;  alone  is  sweet  society,  ix.  301 ; 

not  taught,   iv.    69 ;    subject  to  no 

tax,  ii.  118;  totters,  i.  334;  we  do 

not  wear  out  virtue,  ii.  63. 
Vishnu,  iv.  51,  170 ;  vi.  25 ;  vii.  165 ; 

viii.  20 ;  quoted,  iv.  133. 
Vishnu    Purana,    iv.    50;     vii.    208; 

quoted,  x.  119. 
Vishnu  Sarma,  vii.  208;   quoted,  vi. 

224. 

Visibility,  dismay  at,  vii.  11. 
Vision,  where  is  no  vision,  the  people 

perish,  i.  179,  183  ;  ii.  69  ;  iii.  32  ;  x. 

241 ;  the  visions  of  good  men  are 

good,  vi.  305. 
VISIT,  THE,  ix.  20 /. 
Visits,  iii.  131 ;  limit  to,  viii.  90. 
Vitruvius  quoted,  i.  49  ;  viii.  177. 
Vivian  Grey,  xii.  236. 
Vocabulary  of  great  poets,  ii.  313  ;  iii. 

22 ;  viii.  52  ;  books  as  vocabularies, 

vii.  201. 
Vocation,  ii.  134 ;  vii.  113,  120.    See, 

also,  Employment,  Occupation. 
Voice,   English,  v.  110;  the  sweetest 

music,  i.  251  ;  ii.  340;  viii.  117  ff;  a 

hoarse  voice  a  kind  of  warning,  iv. 

138 ;  viii.  83 ;  index  of  state  of  mind, 

118. 

Volitant  stabilities,  iv.  154. 
Voltaire,  viii.   182,   300  //  x.   110 /; 

quoted,  iv.  31 ;  v.  124  ;  vi.  33,  244  ; 

xii.  51. 

VOLUNTARIES,  ix.  178-182. 
Vortical  motion  in  thoughts,  viii.  13. 
Votary,  religion  cannot  rise  above  the 

state  of  the  votary,  vi.  196. 
Voting,  i.  241,  328  ;  iii.  264 ;  vi.  19,  35, 

237  ;  viii.  166  ;  you  cannot  vote  down 

gravitation   or  morals,  xi.  223  ;  fe 
male  suffrage,  350-353,  405. 
Vows,  every  man  should   assume  his 

own  vows,  i.  232. 
Vulgar,  the,  iii.  112 ;  vi.  220 ;  x.  63 ; 

xii.  135. 

Wages,  i.  353  ;  vi.  220. 
Wagon,  hitch  to  star,  vii.  32 /. 
Waiting,  much  of  life  seems,  i.  333  ; 

ii.  222. 

WALDEINSAMKEIT,  ix.  214 /. 
WALDEN,  ix.  307  ff; viii.  266 ;  ix. 

146. 

WALK,  THE,  ix.  304. 
Walking,  the  art  of,  viii.  146. 
Wall  Street,  i.  220  ;  vi.  90. 
Waller,  Edmund,  quoted,  viii.  57. 
Walls  of  the  soul,  i.  163  ;  v.  21. 
Walpole,  Horace,  quoted,  vi.  282 ;  x. 

Walter,  John,  v.  250. 


Wandering  Jew,  viii.  322. 

Want,  and  Have,  ii.  89  ;  vi.  115,  158 ; 
vii.  118  ;  ix.  229. 

Wants,  elegant  to  have  few  and  serve 
them  one's  self,  i.  235  ;  man  born  to 
have  wants  and  to  satisfy  them,  vi. 
88,  91,  252  ;  vii.  16,  59,  109,  111,  308. 

WAR,  xi.  177-201 ; art  of,  ii.  85  ; 

attractive  because  it  shows  readi 
ness  to  peril  life  for  its  object, 
236,  300 ;  x.  41  ;  xi.  183,  198 ;  child 
ish,  183;  forwards  the  culture  of 
man,  i.  304 ;  vi.  39,  107,  158,  241  ; 
viii.  102 ;  x.  41,  182,  237,  245,  394 ; 
xi.  63,  105,  301,  320,  398  ;  English 
in,  v.  85,  92  ;  foul  game,  183  ;  gun 
powder  in,  xi.  397  ;  improvements, 
x.  183  ;  man  born  to,  ii.  235 ; 
suits  a  semi-civilized  condition,  xi. 
284;  the  solvent  of  effete  society, 
319  ;  Napoleon  on,  iv.  219,  224  ;  xi. 
321 ;  nothing  new  in,  iv.  235  ;  oppo 
sition  to,  xi.  195  ;  preparation  for 
peace,  vi.  72 ;  science  in,  ix.  191 ; 
everything  useful  the  seat  of,  iii. 
99 ;  antagonized  by  trade,  v.  157 ; 
xi.  184. 

Warren,  John  C.,  x.  321. 

Washerwoman's  maxim,  vi.  242. 

Washington,  George,  not  found  in  the 
narrative  of  his  exploits,  iii.  89, 219  ; 
Jacobin  tired  of,  iv.  31 ;  Jerseys  good 
enough  for,  ii.  243 ;  Landor  on,  v. 
10/;  and  Lincoln,  xi.  313 ;  style  of 
breeding,  viii.  100 ;  safe  from  the 
meanness  of  politics,  ii.  248. 

Watches,  men  like,  vi.  170 ;  vii.  221 ; 
272 ;  viii.  54. 

WATER,  ix.  284  ; drinking,  ii.  240  ; 

iii.  32  ;  finds  its  level,  ii.  139  ;  meet 
ing  of,  203  ;  point  of  interest  where 
land  and  water  meet,  i.  196  ;  mixing, 
ii.  197 ;  relieves  monotony  in  land 
scape,  viii.  48  ;  powers,  ix.  47,  284 ; 
x.  72. 

WATERFALL,  ix.  307. 

Waterville  College,  address  at,  x.  231- 
246. 

Watt,  James,  v.  77,  92,  97,  154,  227  ; 
vi.  23,  37,  59,  86  ;  vii.  55 ;  x.  17, 173  ; 
quoted,  vii.  255. 

Waves,  charm  of  motion,  vi.  277. 

Weak,  every  man  seems  to  himself 
weak,  ii.  224. 

Wealth,  vi.  83-123  ; hi  America, 

v.  149 ;  viii.  98  ;  and  aristocracy,  i. 
249  ;  without  the  rich  heart,  a  beg 
gar,  iii.  149  ;  ends,  ii.  222  ;  iii.  182  ; 
in  England,  v.  149,  151,  174  ;  health 
the  first  wealth,  vi.  57;  vii.  110; 
hunger  for,  iii.  182 ;  sign  of  know- 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


347 


ledge,  ii.  110 ;  means,  not  end,  iii. 
183  ;  x.  125  ;  index  of  merit,  iii.  155;; 
objections,  vii.  Ill ;  parasitical,  x. 
258 ;  power  not  to  be  divorced  from, 
xii.  100;  respect  for,  not  without 
right,  viii.  98  ;  scholar  needs  lit 
tle,  280;  servitude,  xii.  116;  ten 
dency  to  draw  on  the  spiritual  class, 
x.  233  ;  stands  on  a  few  staples,  xi. 
396  ;  tainted,  i.  224  ;  need  of,  for  do 
mestic  well-being,  vii.  110. 

Weather,  we  cannot  give  up  care  of, 
ii.  213. 

Weather-cock  of  party,  xi.  398. 

Weatherfend  the  roof,  ix.  1GO. 

Web,  of  life,  vi.  81,  304  ;  vii.  164,  166  ; 
x.  190 ;  of  nature,  viii.  30  ;  of  party, 
xi.  248. 

WEBSTER,  DANIEL,  ix.  312;  xi.   207- 

215 ; iii.  220 ;  iv.  20, 190  ;  vi.  18, 

65, 131 ;  viii.  30, 115,  174 /,  209,  301 ; 
x.  417,  456 ;  xi.  220,  226,  233,  236, 
410 ;  xii.  45,  70 ;  quoted,  vii.  76. 

Wedgwood  and  Flaxman,  xi.  395. 

Weight,  personal,  v.  102  ;  vi.  19. 

Weimar,  Grand  Duke  of,  and  Goethe, 
viii.  300  ;  quoted,  ii.  216. 

WELL,  INSCRIPTION  FOR,  ix.  315. 

Well-doing,  talent  of,  vi.  188. 

Well-dressed,  tranquillity  in  being, 
viii.  88. 

Well-read,  we  expect  a  great  man  to 
be,  viii.  170. 

Wellington,  Duke  of,  v.  8,  69,  86,  107, 
117,  120,  177,  290 ;  vi.  145  ;  vii.  256, 
304  ;  viii.  175 ;  x.  163,  461 ;  quoted, 
v.  109, 116,  128,  212 ;  vii.  243,  298. 

Welsh  poetry,  Triads,  quoted,  vi.  26, 
287 ;  vii.  65 ;  viii.  59. 

West,  the,  i.  349 ;  x.  174 ;  xi.  416. 

West  Indies,  EMANCIPATION  IN,  xi. 
129-175. 

West  Point,  vi.  77  ;  x.  240. 

West-Roxbury  Association,  x.  338^". 

Wheat,  steampipe  screwed  to  the 
wheat  crop,  vi.  86. 

Wheel-insect,  iv.  275. 

Wheels,  the  creation  on,  viii.  10. 

Whigs,  vi.  65;  xi.  217 /. 

Whim,  as  motto,  ii.  53,  296. 

Whimseys,  iv.  252 ;  v.  121 ;  vii.  302. 

Whiskey,  tax  on,  vii.  34. 

Whistling,  iv.  96,  175 ;  viii.  73. 

Whitefield,  George,  vii.  314;  xi.  69, 
88. 

Whitewashed  by  unmeaning  names, 
v.  172. 

Wholeness  in  nature  is  wholeness  in 
thought,  viii.  152 ;  x.  190. 

Wickedness,  successful,  ii.  92 ;  vi.  26, 
67. 


Wicliffe,  John,  v.  207,  211 ;  viii.  204. 

Wife,  iv.  124. 

Wilkinson,  James  J.  G.,  iv.  107 ;  v. 

237. 
Will,  acts  of,  rare,  xi.  404 ;  and  action, 

iii.  96 ;  affection  essential  to,  vi.  32  ; 

beauty  the  mark  of,  i.  25  ;  education 

of,   the  end  of  our  existence,   45; 

vii.  259;  elemental,  viii.  317,  325; 

the  presence  of  God  to  men,  xii. 

43 ;  the  one  serious  and  formidable 


0.1,  z<o ;  xi.  644  ;  aiiu  inspiration,  vi. 
34;  moral  sentiment  the  kingdom 
of,  iv.  92 ;  liberation  from  sheaths 
of  organization,  vi.  39 ;  male  power, 
x.  154 ;  constitutes  man,  v.  15 ;  x. 
94 ;  not  to  be  manufactured,  vi.  32 ; 
miraculous,  xii.  43;  moral  nature 
vitiated  by  interference  of  will,  ii. 
127,  255,  306 ;  viii.  218 ;  preponder 
ance  of  nature  over,  ii.  128;  all 
possible  to,  iv.  167  ;  measure  of 
power,  v.  289 ;  vi.  31 ;  viii.  268 ;  x. 
154 ;  xi.  218  ;  xii.  42  ;  rudder  of  the 
ship  of  humanity,  xi.  339  ;  selecting, 
vi.  84 ;  added  to  thought,  ix.  274 ; 
weakness  begins  when  the  individ 
ual  would  be  something  of  himself, 
ii.  255  ;  wishing  is  not  willing, 
xii.  42  ;  realized  in  world,  i.  46. 

Willard,  Major  Samuel,  xi.  36,  60  ff. 

William  the  Conqueror,  v.  73,  155; 
vi.  241. 

William  of  Orange,  vi.  143,  222. 

William  of  Wykeham,  v.  275. 

Williams,  Helen  M.,  quoted,  viii.  30. 

Willows,  viii.  147. 

Wilson,  John,  viii.  188. 

Wilton  Hall,  v.  182,  269. 

Winchester  Cathedral,  v.  274. 

Winckelmann,  vi.  271  ;  vii.  193  ; 
quoted,  vi.  174. 

WIND,  SOUTH,  ix.  310. 

Wind,  scholastic  bag  of,  iii.  244; 
Welsh  invocation  of,  viii.  59  ;  on 
lake,  272 ;  ix.  264  ;  myriad-handed, 
42  ;  order  of,  vi.  304  ;  sense  of,  269 ; 
service,  i.  19  ;  south,  iii.  166 ;  ix. 
40,  91.  130 ;  cosmical  west,  viii. 
201. 

Wind-harps,  iii.  166 ;  see,  also,  Harp. 

Windows,  of  diligence,  i.  25 ;  painter, 
ii.  25 ;  watcher  of,  166 ;  of  the  soul, 
vi.  172. 

Wine,  bards  love,  iii.  31  ;  bring  me, 
ix.  Ill  ;  in  cup  of  life,  vi.  44 ;  cup 
shakes,  x.  158  ;  decanting,  farm 
ing  like,  vi.  116 ;  and  eloquence, 
147;  false,  viii.  71;  friends  are 


348 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


frozen,  ix.  291 ;  Hafiz  on,  viii.  232- 
234  ;  inspiration,  266  ;  for  a  cer 
tain  style  of  living,  xi.  406 ;  Lu 
ther  on,  iv.  147  ;  hidden,  ix.  155  ; 
which  is  music,  112  ;  no  resource  but 
to  take  wine  with  him,  v.  219 ;  what 
wine  and  roses  say,  ix.  31 ;  sidereal, 
121 ;  feels  bloom  of  vine,  145  ;  waters 
fell  as,  34. 

Wings,  affections  are,  viii.  217  ;  beau 
ty  plants,  iii.  27 ;  vi.  289 ;  of  time, 
ix.  229. 

Winkelried,  Arnold,  i.  26. 

Winter  scenery,  i.  24. 

Wisdom,  return  for  action,  i.  98 ;  iL 
214;  the  difference  of  persons  not 
in  wisdom  but  in  art,  310;  and 
beauty,  iv.  69 ;  cheerfulness  of,  vi. 
250 ;  vii.  288  ;  contagion  of,  iv.  18, 29 ; 
involves  courage,  x.  87  ;  mask  with 
delight,  ix.  267;  each  has  enough, 
xii.  27  ;  does  not  go  with  ease,  87 ; 
in  private  economy,  ii.  221  ;  like 
electricity,  vii.  235 ;  xii.  25 ;  infused 
into  every  form,  iii.  188 ;  genius 
sheds,  i.  108;  from  God  only,  iv. 
69 ;  not  without  goodness,  i.  210 ; 
health,  condition  of,  vii.  288;  of 
humanity,  ii.  260,  270;  in  life,  iii. 
62  ;  and  love,  iv.  209 ;  does  not  con 
cern  itself  with  particular  men,  viii. 
295 ;  the  mark  of,  is  to  see  the  mi 
raculous,  i.  78 ;  iii.  70 ;  no  monopoly, 
ii.  261 ;  to  know  our  own,  iii.  82  ;  in 
pine-woods,  33 ;  contrasted  with 
shrewdness,  ii.  114 ;  sign,  vii.  288  ; 
from  well-doing,  xi.  223  ;  of  world, 
ii.  270. 

Wise,  Gov.  Henry  A.,  vii.  255;  xi. 
253. 

Wise  man,  makes  all  wise,  vi.  255 ;  not 
always  wise,  91  ;  vii.  236 ;  xii.  25 ; 
discriminates,  i.  44 ;  end  of  nature, 
iii.  206;  few  dare  be,  i.  140;  and 
foolish,  44 ;  iii.  270  ;  can't  be  found, 
204  ;  has  no  personal  friends,  207  ; 
Luther  said  God  could  not  do  with 
out,  180;  takes  much  for  granted, 
x.  58;  intelligence  with  others,  ii. 
139  ;  at  home  everywhere,  79 ;  ix. 
46  ;  leaves  out  the  many,  iii.  99  ;  all 
literature  writes  his  character,  ii. 
13;  has  no  needs,  iii.  206;  shuns 
novelty,  x.  169 ;  presence,  iii.  207  ; 
is  state,  206 ;  wants  to  find  his 
weak  points,  ii.  113. 

Wiser  than  we  know,  ii.  93,  263. 

Wishes  are  granted,  vi.  49  ;  vii.  308  ;  x. 
96 ;  xii.  42 ;  and  will,  vi.  33  ;  vii.  240. 

Wit,  adamant  soft  to,  ix.  66 ;  shaft  of 
Apollo,  viii.  156  ;  architecture  of,  i. 


167 ;  charter,  viii.  107 ;  cheap,  vi. 
219 ;  detectors  of,  i.  337  ;  difference  of 
impressionability,  vii.  279  ;  English, 
v.  121 ;  epilepsies  of,  ii.  191  ;  and 
folly,  96  ;  like  Greek  fire,  viii.  156  ; 
humor  better  than,  xi.  377 ;  ice 
cream  instead  of,  i.  233 ;  irresistible, 
viii.  156 ;  does  not  make  us  laugh, 
96;  law  of  water  true  of  wit,  xi. 
398  ;  libraries  overload  wit,  ii.  83  ;  a 
magnet  for  wit,  viii.  302 ;  men  of, 
unavailable,  xii.  7  ;  and  mobs,  viii. 
143 ;  mother,  x.  154  ;  peacock,  ix.  55  ; 
the  finest  has  its  sediment,  vi.  236  ; 
makes  its  own  welcome,  viii.  156. 

Witan  quoted,  viii.  307  ;  xi.  34. 

Witchcraft,  of  affection,  ii.  166;  of 
curls,  vii.  103. 

Wolf,  Frederick  A.,  x.  312. 

WOMAN,  xi.  335-356;  iii.  145- 

147 ;  as  author,  vii.  270 ;  civilizer, 
ii.  244  ;  iii.  145  ;  vi.  143, 281 ;  vii.  27  ; 
viii.  92;  xi.  340;  clergy  addressed 
as,  i.  75 ;  conscience  of  people,  xi. 
246;  lawgiver  in  conversation,  vii. 
214;  viii.  91 /;  xi.  340;  English,  v. 
67,  107;  fascination,  vi.  299;  of 
fashion,  165 ;  figure,  284 ;  Fourier's 
opinion  of,  x.  333  ;  in  the  home,  iii. 
145 ;  xi.  343 ;  element  of  illusion,  vi. 
299 ;  impressionable,  47  ;  xi.  337  ;  in 
dex  of  coming  hour,  vi.  47  ;  xi.  337  ; 
influence,  vi.  165,  281 ;  inspiration, 
ii.  143,  244  ;  iii.  146 ;  xi.  337 ;  love 
and  marriage,  ii.  174  ;  vii.  120  ;  more 
personal  than  men,  xi.  349 ;  political 
status,  iii.  145  ;  viii.  198  ;  xi.  347  ;  a 
poet,  vi.  281  ;  rights,  iii.  145 ;  a  solv 
ent,  146 ;  superior,  speech  of,  viii. 
91 ;  force  of  will,  vii.  251. 

Wonder,  poetry  the  daughter  of,  iv. 
197  ;  seed  of  science,  vii.  152 ;  x.  31. 

Wood,  Antony,  v.  70,  79 ;  vii.  230 ;  x. 
180  ;  xii.  154. 

Wood-bell's  peal,  ix.  199. 

Wood-life,  contrite,  ii.  59. 

WOOD-NOTES,  ix.  43-57. 

Woods,  aboriginal,  i.  163;  city  boy 
in,  vii.  281 ;  egotism  vanishes  in,  i. 
16  ;  not  forgotten,  37  ;  freedom  of, 
vii.  146;  glad,  ix.  214;  tempered 
light,  iii.  164  ;  man  a  child  in,  i.  15  ; 
peace,  xii.  135  ;  plantations  of  God, 
i.  15  ;  inspire  reason  and  faith,  15  ; 
self -similar,  ix.  163  ;  seem  to  wait, 
ii.  23.  See,  also,  Forests,  Trees. 

Woolman,  John,  xi.  139. 

Words,  are  actions,  iii.  14  ;  air  forged 
into,  i.  46 ;  air-sown,  ix.  191 ;  awk 
ward,  ii.  213  ;  would  bleed,  iv.  160  ; 
brutes  have  no,  i.  50;  bullets,  iv. 


GENEEAL  INDEX. 


349 


161 ;  disputes  in,  iii.  266 ;  finite,  i. 
50;  iii.  26;  strokes  of  genius,  26; 
viii.  184;  from  heart,  enrich,  iii. 

103  ;  golden,  iv.  117  ;  inflation  from 
too  much  use,  x.  165  ;  Landor's  use 
of,  xii.  211 ;  loaded  with  life,  i.  96  ; 
lists  of  suggestive,  iii.  22  ;  meanings 
fluxional,  ii.  299;  vi.  288;   viii.  22, 
37 ;    metallic    force    of    primitive 
words,  58  ;   objects  are  words,  xii. 
5 ;    that  are  persuasions,   ix.   131 ; 
perversion  of,  i.  35;  fossil  poetry, 

111.  26  ;  power,  vii.  65 ;  religions  and 
states  founded  on,  viii.  41  ;  sincere, 
never  lost,  ii.  150  ;  to  match  the  sky, 
ix.  199  ;  spoken,  not  recalled,  ii.  112 ; 
study  of,  iii.  244 ;  symbolism  a  sec 
ond  nature,  growing  out  of  the  first, 
26  ;  thoughts  always  clothed  in,  xii. 
67;    timely,   ii.   216;    transparent, 
vii.   182 ;  necessary  because  of  the 
distance  of  thought  between  speaker 
and  hearer,  ii.  291  ;  new  uses  of,  a 
source  of  inspiration,  viii.  278;  let 
us  not  be  victims  of,  vii.  20  ;  that  are 
not  words,  but  things,  214. 

Wordsworth,  William,  v.  21-27,  279- 
282  ;  xii.  186^,  225-229 ; Amer 
ican  appreciation,  xii.  98  ;  anecdote, 
vii.  306  ;  appropriator  of  thoughts, 
viii.  183  ;  habit  of  brag,  v.  146,  280  ; 
conscientious,  243 ;  viii.  192 ;  and 
De  Quincey,  183  ;  great  design,  37  ; 
xii.  227,  231 ;  disparagement,  v. 
281 ;  exceptional  genius,  243 ;  Lamb 
to,  viii.  189  ;  example  of  right  liv 
ing,  v.  280 ;  vi.  148 ;  Landor  on, 
v.  281 ;  xii.  203,  210  ;  Pan's  record 
ing  voice,  ix.  206  ;  agent  of  reform 
in  philosophy,  viii.  67 ;  visit  to,  v. 
21-27,  279  ; quoted,  i.  130 ;  ii. 

112,  126,  140  ;  v.  22,  108,  208,  279  ; 
vi.  287;  vii.  171,  281,  306;  viii.  31, 
70,  177,  215,  280  ;  x.  96,  217,  238, 
305 ;  xii.  157. 

Work,  dignity  of,  i.  20,  173,  175,  229, 
331 ;  ii.  135,  155 ;  iii.  181  /,  268 ;  v. 
188 ;  vi.  87, 91, 110, 214 /,  221 ;  vii.  27, 
133,  169,  274-277,  303  ;  viii.  200,  323, 
324 ;  ix.  105 ;  x.  129  ;  xi.  384,  423  ; 
xii.  28,  240.  See,  also,  Labor. 

WORKS  AND  DAYS,  vii.  149-177. 

World,  enlarged  by  our  finding  affini 
ties,  vii.  284;  all  outside,  iii.  66; 
property  of  each  if  he  will,  i.  25, 

104  ;  vii.  164  ;  288  ;  a  battle-ground, 
x.  87  ;  is  beauty,  i.  21,  29,  111,  119 ; 
ix.  65  ;  xii.  116 ;  like   man's  body, 
i.  68  ,   build  your  own,    79 ;    final 
cause  of,  18  ;  of  corn  and  money,  iv. 
91 ;  for  cricket-ball,  iii.  53 ;  a  divine 


dream,  i.  66,  286  ;  for  man's  educa 
tion,  vii.  317;  emblematic,  i.  38; 
empty,  ii.  140 ;  belongs  to  ener 
getic,  viii.  139 ;  x.  86 ;  enigmatical, 
vii.  172 ;  always  equal  to  itself,  iv. 
104  ;  vii.  166  ;  288  ;  viii.  203  ;  not  fin 
ished,  but  fluid,  i.  105  ;  it  is  for  good, 
x.  93  ;  a  growth,  180  ;  in  the  hand, 
iv.  152  ;  heedless,  ix.  17  ;  stands  on 
ideas,  x.  89;  illustration  of  the 
mind,  i.  120 ;  immensity,  ii.  331 ; 
belted  with  laws,  x.  86,  127  ;  congru- 
ity  with  man,  i.  72 ;  120  ;  ii-  10,  14 ; 
328 ;  iii.  176 ;  188 ;  x.  131  ;  mathe 
matical,  ii.  99 ;  vi.  80 ;  mill,  81 ;  in 
miniature,  in  every  event,  ii.  317  ; 
331 ;  mirror  of  man,  x.  185 ;  his 
who  has  money,  vi.  94 ;  moral  im 
port,  iv.  82,  113  ff;  man  the  mould 
into  which  it  is  poured,  i.  316 ;  but 
one,  x.  192 ;  picture-book  of  human 
life,  viii.  15  ;  plastic,  i.  105 ;  plenum, 
iii.  231  ;  a  poem,  iv.  116,  120 ;  rough 
and  surly,  vi.  12 ;  sit  on  and  steer, 
i.  302 ;  shadow  of  the  soul,  96 ;  iii. 
25 ;  teacher,  x.  127  ;  a  temple,  iii.  21 ; 
rests  on  thoughts,  x.  89  ;  tool-chest, 
vi.  89 ;  not  yet  subdued  by  thought, 
i.  163 ;  for  use,  vi.  89 ;  x.  75,  85, 125 ; 
not  used  up,  iv.  235 ;  product  of  one 
will,  i.  123. 

WORLD- SOUL,  ix.  23-27. 

Worship,  decay  of,  i.  141 ;  x.  198  ;  vi. 
191-230  ;  ix.  237  ;  learned  from  na 
ture,  i.  65, 125 ;  of  material  qualities, 
ii.  152  ;  finds  expression  in  good 
works,  xi.  384,  392. 

Worth,  absolute  and  relative,  i.  144, 
237  ;  ii.  62,  140 ;  a  man  passes  for 
what  he  is  worth,  149  ;  iv.  124 ;  apol 
ogies  for  real  worth,  iii.  208. 

Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  iv.  194 ;  quoted, 
v.  Ill,  171 ;  x.  411. 

Would,  or  should,  in  our  statements, 
viii.  34. 

Wrath,  English,  v.  136 ;  wild,  x.  263 ; 
not  available,  xi.  210.  See,  also, 
Anger. 

Wren,   Sir  Christopher,  quoted,    xi. 

Writer,  affection  inspires,  ii.  184 ;  vii. 
16 ;  best  part  of,  is  that  which  does 
not  belong  to  him,  ii.  105 ;  v.  8 ; 
from  his  heart,  ii.  145 ;  materials,  iv. 
249;  need  of  him,  256;  vii.  16; 
signs  of  originality,  i.  36,  73;  viii. 
37;  the  people,  not  the  college,  his 
teacher,  vii.  16 ;  popular  power,  x. 
56 ;  once  sacred,  iv.  256  ;  secondary, 
might  be  spared,  vii.  186 ;  secret,  ii. 
310;  self-trust,  iii.  181;  a  skater 


350 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


who  must  go  where  the  skates  carry 
him,  viii.  34 ;  skill,  not  wisdom,  his 
characteristic,  ii.  310 ;  conditions  of 
success,  286;  v.  8;  vii.  174;  sur 
roundings,  viii.  276  ;  talent  does  not 
make  a  writer,  iv.  267;  young  writer 
leaves  put  the  one  thing  he  has  to 
say,  viii.  292. 

Writing,  comes  by  grace  of  God,  iii. 
71 ;  weakens  memory,  xii.  71 ;  must 
be  addressed  to  one's  self,  ii.  145. 

Wrong,  seen  only  in  some  gross  form, 
i.  265;  the  pains  we  take  to  do 
wrong,  x.  146 ;  penalty,  ii.  107;  pros 
perity  built  on,  x.  183 ;  a  remedy 
for  every  wrong,  viii.  316  ;  the  years 
are  always  pulling  down  a  wrong, 
xi.  106. 

XENOPHANES,  ix.  120 /; quoted, 

48. 
Xenophon,  iii.  100 ;  vii.  191  /,  234 ;  viii. 

226 ;  quoted,  ii.  29. 

Yacht-race,  it  is  the  man  that  wins, 
v.  56. 

Yama,  legend  of,  viii.  331. 

Yankee  enterprise,  ii.  221 ;  vi.  59. 

Year,  all  sorts  of  weather  make  up,  ix. 
71 ;  each  moment  has  its  own  beauty, 
i.  24 ;  specious  panorama,  ix.  121 ; 
inhaled  as  a  vapor,  i.  154. 

Years,  blue  glory,  vii.  166 ;  menials,  ii. 
152 ;  single  moments,  confess,  ix.  21; 
x.  242 ;  of  routine  and  sin,  i.  144  ; 
teach  much  which  the  days  never 
knew,  iii.  71 ;  usurped  by  petty  ex 
periences,  ii.  213. 

Yeast,  reformers  against,  iii.  240 ;  in 
spiration  like,  viii.  257. 

Yellow-breeched  philosopher,  ix.  41. 

Yezdam  prophet,  xii.  254. 

Ygdrasil,  tree,  x.  193. 

Yoganidra,  iv.  170 ;  vi.  297. 

Yoke  of  opinions,  vi.  149. 

You,  another,  x.  136. 


Young,  Edward,  x.  376;  quoted,  ii. 
294 ;  vi.  194. 

Young,  ideas  always  find  us,  ix.  83. 

YOUNG  AMERICAN,  i.  341-372. 

Young,  may  take  a  leap  in  the  dark, 
x.  21 ;  despise  life,  iii.  64 ;  old  head 
on  young  shoulders,  vii.  298. 

Young  men,  aims,  iv.  151 ;  x.  239, 
255,  263 ;  not  to  be  helpless  angels, 
240 ;  Carlyle  and,  457 ;  view  of  the 
manly  character,  viii.  288 ;  ten 
dency  to  country  life,  i.  346 ;  edu 
cated  above  their  work,  xii.  254 ; 
whose  performance  is  not  extraordi 
nary,  ii.  243 ;  iii.  55 ;  xii.  254 ;  lose 
heart,  ii.  75 ;  make  themselves  at 
home,  vii.  20 ;  impediments,  i.  220  ; 
innovators,  289;  young  and  old  do 
not  understand  each  other,  ii.  162 ; 
x.  135 ;  need  patience,  i.  114 ;  soci 
ety  an  illusion  to,  iii.  191 ;  start  in 
life,  xii.  254 ;  work  not  wanting,  259 ; 
their  year  a  heap  of  beginnings,  vii. 
309. 

Young  Men's  Republican  Club,  resolu 
tion,  vii.  302 ;  everywhere  in  place, 
301. 

Youth,  actions  pictures  in  the  air,  i. 
97;  love  of  beauty  prolongs,  ii. 
256;  the  day  too  short,  vii.  216; 
dreams,  iii.  193 ;  vi.  251 ;  follies,  244  ; 
glory,  ii.  172 ;  admirable  health,  vii. 
280 ;  viii.  261 ;  feeling  of  incompe- 
tency,  iv.  175 ;  love,  ii.  161 ;  pas 
sions,  vii.  306;  perpetual,  x.  135; 
must  prize,  viii.  261 ;  receptivity,  ii. 
298  ;  excess  of  sensibility,  vii.  309  ; 
sensual,  x.  147;  becomes  skeptical, 
265;  suffers  from  powers  untried, 
vii.  307. 

Zero,  result  of  most  lives,  x.  216. 
Zertusht.    See  Zoroaster. 
Zoroaster,  iii.  107 ;  quoted,  i.  203 ;  ii. 

78 ;  v.  230 ;  vi.  74,  194 ;  viii.  24. 
Zymosis,  viii.  127. 


INDEX  OF  QUOTATIONS. 


A  few  strong  instincts,  ii.  126.  — 
Wordsworth:  Sonnets  to  Liberty  — 
On  Tyrolese. 

A  good  rider,  etc.,  vi.  138.  —Lord  Ed 
ward  Herbert  of  Cherbury. 

A  pagan,  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn, 
i.  130. —Wordsworth:  Miscellane 
ous  Sonnets  —  "  The  world  is  too 
much  with  us." 

A  wealthy  man,  addicted,  etc.,  i.  259. 
—  Milton:  Areopagitica  (Bohn,  ii. 
85). 

Adrastia,  law  of,  iii.  85.  —  Plato :  Phae- 
drus. 

All  summer  in  the  field,  iii.  245.— Ful 
ler  :  Worthies  ;  Pym. 

All  trivial,  fond  records,  viii.  146.  — 
Shakespeare :  Hamlet,  i.  5. 

Always  do  what  you  are  afraid  to  do, 
ii.  245. —Miss  Mary  Moody  Emer- 

As  Heaven  and  earth,  etc.,  iii.  142.  — 
Keats:  Hyperion. 

As  o'er  our  heads,  etc.,  viii.  30.— 
Helen  M.  Williams:  Hymn,  "My 
God,  all  nature  owns  thy  sway." 

Be    bold,    iv.    59. —Spenser:    Fairy 

Queen,  iii.  11. 
Blasted  with  excess  of  light,  ii.  264.— 

Gray  :  Progress  of  Poesy. 
Brother,  if  Jove,  etc.,  iii.  156.  —  He- 

siod. 
But  simple  truth,  etc.,  x.  411.  — Wot- 

ton :  The  Happy  Life. 

Calm  pleasures  here  abide,  x.  238.  — 
Wordsworth :  Laodamia. 

Can  these  things  be,  etc.,  i.  39.  — 
Shakespeare  :  Macbeth,  iii.  4. 

Come  into  the  world,  etc. ,  x.  48.  — 
Richard  Rumbold  on  scaffold.  See 
Macaulay's  England. 

Created  beings,  etc.,  xi.  344. —Mil 
ton  :  Paradise  Lost. 

Crush  the  sweet  poison  of  misused 
wine,  ii.  187.  — Milton :  Comus. 


Dost  thou  think,  etc.,  viii.  157.— 
Shakespeare  :  Twelfth  Night,  ii.  3. 

Drive  out  Nature,  etc.,  ii.  102.— 
Horace. 

Earth  fills  her  lap,  etc.,  ii.  140.  — 
Wordsworth :  Intimations  of  Immor 
tality. 

Enclosing  in  a  garden  square,  vii.  143. 

—  Marvell :  The  Mower. 

Enlarge  not  thy  destiny,  vi.  74.— 
Chaldean  Oracle  :  Zoroaster. 

Et  tune  magna,  etc.,  vii.  312.  — Vir 
gil  :  ^Jneid,  iv.  654. 

Ever  their  phantoms,  etc.,  iv.  25. — 
Sterling :  Daedalus. 

Fair  hangs  the  apple  from  the  rock, 

xii.   180.  —The  Braes  of  Yarrow: 

Win.  Hamilton. 
Far  have  I  clambered,  etc.,  xi.  344.  — 

Henry  More  :  Love  and  Humility. 
For  evil  word,  etc.,  xi.  225.  —  Mschy- 

lus :  Chcephori,  307. 
For  never  will  come  back,  etc.,  vii. 

281.  —  Wordsworth :  Intimations  of 

Immortality. 
For  they  can  conquer,  etc.,  viii.  142. 

—  Dryden. 

Forgive  his  crimes,   etc.,   ii.  295.  — 

Young. 
Forms  that  men  spy,  vii.  174.  —  Scott : 

Monastery. 
Fountain  heads,  etc.,  ii.  168.  — Beau- 

mont    and    Fletcher:     The    Nice 

Valour,  iii.  3. 

Good  thoughts  are  no  better,  etc.,  i. 
43.  —  Bacon. 

Half  of  their  charms,  etc.,  vi.  287.  — 

Scott :  Dying  Bard. 
He  is  preserved  from  harm,  viii.  169. 

—  Plato :  Phaedrus. 

He  nothing  common  did,  xii.  116.  — 
Marvell:  Upon  Cromwell's  Return 
from  Ireland. 


352 


INDEX  OF  QUOTATIONS. 


He  that  can  endure,  iv.  86.  — Shake 
speare  :  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  iii.  11. 

Head  with  foot,  etc. .  x.  16.  —  Herbert : 
Man. 

Heaven  kindly  gave,  etc.,  vi.  194.  — 
Young. 

Hengist  had  verament,  vi.  197.  — 
Merlin  :  Ellis  :  Early  English  Metri 
cal  Romances. 

Her  pure  and  eloquent  blood,  etc.,  ii. 
175.  —  Donne  :  Elegy  on  Mistress 
Drury. 

High  instincts,  etc.,  x.  96. —Words 
worth  :  Intimations  of  Immortality. 

Hunc  solem,  etc. ,  viii.  214.  —  Horace  : 
Epist.,  i.  6. 

I  think  he  '11  be  to  Rome,  etc.,  x.  47. 

—  Shakespeare  :  Coriolanus,  iv.  7. 

I  well  believe,  etc.,   x.  30. —  Shake 
speare  :  Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  ii.  3. 
If  knowledge   calleth  unto  practice, 

etc.,    i.    211.  —  Sentences    of     All, 

Ockley's  Saracens. 
If   my  bark    sink,  iv.   177.  — W.  E. 

Channing  :  The  Poet's  Hope. 
If  that  fail,  etc.,   xi.  298.  — Milton: 

Comus. 
In  the  afternoon  we  came,  etc.,  xii. 

206.  —  Tennyson  :  The  Lotus-Eaters. 
In  the  heat  of  the  battle,  etc.,  i.  330.  — 

Landpr  :  Pericles  and  Aspasia. 
Incertainties  now   crown  themselves 

assured,     xi.    303.  —  Shakespeare  : 

Sonnet  CVII. 
Indeed  it  takes  from  our  achievements, 

iv.  95.  —  Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  i.  4. 
Indeed,  these  humble  considerations, 

etc.,    ii.    238.  —  Shakespeare  :     II. 

HenryIV.,ii.  2. 
Indignation  makes  verses,  viii.  119.  — 

Horace. 
Into  paint  I  will  grind  thee,  iii.  229. 

—  Washington  Allston:  The  Paint- 
King. 

It  o'erinforms  the  tenement,  iv.  95.  — 
Dryden,  Absalom  and  Achitophel. 

It  was  a  great  instruction,  etc.,  vii. 
33.  —Life  of  Col.  Hutchinson. 

Let  India  boast  her  palms,  v.  94.  — 
Pope. 

Let  them  rave,  ii.  248.  —  Tennyson  : 
A  Dirge. 

Looks  in  and  sees  each  blissful  deity, 
x.  119.— Milton:  Vacation  Exer 
cises. 

Magno  se  judice,  etc.,  x.  405.  —  Lucan. 
Man  alone  can  perform  the  impossible, 
i.  366.  -  Goethe. 


'  Men  cannot  exercise,  etc.,  vii.  157.— 

Plutarch:  Morals. 
More  servants  wait  on  man,  etc.,  i.  19. 

—  George  Herbert :  Man. 

I  My  Cid  with  fleecy  beard,  viii.  303.  — 
Southey  :  Chronicle  of  the  Cid. 

Nature  is  made  better,  etc.,  iv.  86.  — 
Shakespeare  :  Winter's  Tale,  iv.  3. 

Nature  puts  me  out,  v.  241.  — Fuseli. 

Ne  te  qusesiveris  extra,  ii.  45.  —  Per- 
sius,  Sat.  I.  7. 

No,  it  was  builded,  etc.,  i.  57.  — 
Shakespeare  :  Sonnets,  cxxiv. 

No  profit  flows,  etc.,  vii.  188.  — Shake 
speare  :  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  i.  1. 

Not  as  the  store,  etc.,  vii.  124.  — 
Menander  —  quoted  in  Plutarch's 
Morals. 

Notes  with  many  a  winding  bout,  xii. 
158.  -  Milton :  L'Allegro. 

O  wad  ye  tak'  a  thought,  etc.,  iv.  133. 

—  Burns  :  To  the  Devil. 

Of  all  the  gods,  etc.,  ii.  103.  —  ^Bschy- 

lus :  Furies. 
Of  old  things  all  are  over  old,  x.  305. 

—  Wordsworth  :  Rob  Roy's  Grave. 
Of    wrong    and    outrage,    x.    415.  — 

Cowper  :  Task,  II. 
On  two  days,  etc.,  vi.  11 ;  ix.  248.  — 

Omar  Khayyam. 
One    avenue,   etc.,   x.    179. — Keats: 

Hyperion. 
Or  if  a  soul,  etc.,  vi.  48.  —  Chaucer: 

House  of  Fame. 
Our  garden,  etc.,  i.  344.  —  Euripides  : 

Medea. 

iravra  pet,  viii.  190.  —  Heraclitus. 
Presenting  Thebes'  and  Pelops'  line, 

iv.  188.  —  Milton  :  II  Penseroso. 
Prisca  juvant  alios,  viii.  198.  —  Ovid  : 

Ars  Amatoria,  iii.  121. 

Quisque  suos  patimur  manes,  vi.  45. 

—  Virgil :  .<Eneid,  iv. 

Rightly  to  be  great,  etc. ,  x.  167.  — 
Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  iv.  4. 

Seekest  thou  great  things  ?  vi.  263.  — 
Jeremiah,  xlv.  5. 

Semper  sibi  similis,  x.  170. —  Lin 
naeus. 

She  was  BO  fair,  etc.,  vi.  198.  — Chau 
cer  :  Legend  of  Good  Women. 

Since  neither  now  nor  yesterday,  iii. 
73.  —  Sophocles :  Antigone,  456. 

Slighted  Minerva's  learned  tongue, 
viii.  272.  —  Original. 


INDEX  OF  QUOTATIONS. 


353 


Stately  steppes  he,  etc.,  xii.   180.  — 

Hardyknute  :  Percy's  Relics. 
Strikes  the  electric  chain,  etc.,  viii. 

280. 
Success    shall  be,    etc.,    vii.    271.— 

Svend    Vonved,    trans,  by  George 

Borrow. 
Sunshine  was  he,  etc. ,  i.  242.  —  Arab 

poet,  trans,  by  Goethe. 

'T  is  man's  perdition  to  be  safe.  —  R. 

Vines. 
'T  is  not  every  day,  etc.,  viii.  263.  — 

Herrick :  Hesperides. 
'Tis  said,  best  men,  etc.,  vi.  245.  — 

Shakespeare  :  Measure  for  Measure, 

v.  1. 
'Tis  still  observed,  etc.,  vii.   255.— 

Herrick  :     More     Modest,     More 

Manly. 
'T  is  the  most  difficult  of  tasks,  viii. 

280.  —  Wordsworth. 
'Tis  virtue,  etc.,  xi.  403. —  Ben  Jon- 
son  :  Cynthia's  Revels. 
Take  those  lips  away,  i.  58.  —  Shake 
speare  :  Measure  for  Measure,  iv.  1. 

Also     Beaumont     and     Fletcher  : 

Bloody  Brother. 
The  best  lightning  rod,  etc.,  x.  50.— 

Thoreau. 
The  blood  of  twenty  thousand  men, 

etc.,  vii.  66.  —  Shakespeare  :  Richard 

II. 
The  curse  of  the  country,  etc.,   vii. 

76.  —  Daniel  Webster. 
The  Destiny,  minister  general,  etc., 

vi.    11.  —  Chaucer  :     the    Knights 

Tale. 
The    far-fetched    diamond,   etc.,    xi. 

343.  —  Coventry     Patmore  :     The 

Angel  in  the  House. 
The  fiery  soul,  x.  188.  —  M.  M.   Em 
erson. 
The  Furies  are  the  bonds  of  men,  vi. 

245.  —  Chaldean  Oracles. 
The  gods  are  to  each  other,  etc.,  iii. 

110.  —  Homer  :  Odyssey,  v.  79. 
The  name  of  death,  etc.,  viii.  312.  — 

Beaumont  and   Fletcher  :    Double 

Marriage. 
The  ornament  of  beauty   is    suspect, 

i.  57.  —  Shakespeare  :  Sonnets,  Ixx. 
The  person  love  doth  to  us  fit,  ii.  177. 

—  Cowley. 

The  privates  of  man's  heart,  viii.  15. 

—  Gower. 

The  pulses  of  her  iron  heart,  vii.  28.  — 
0.  W.  Holmes  :  The  Steamboat. 

The  ruggedest  hour,  etc.,  v.  127. — 
Shakespeare  :  II.  Henry  IV.,  i.  1. 


The  valiant"  warrior,  etc.,  ii.  '191.— 

Shakespeare :  Sonnet  xxv. 
Their     highest    praising,    ii.     274. — 

Milton  :  Areopagitica  (Bohn,  ii.  57). 
Their  strength  is  to  sit  still,  xii.  267. 

—  Isaiah  xxx.  7. 

There  is  now  no  longer,  etc.,  iii.  62; 

xii.  254.—  Desatir,  Persian  prophet. 

These  we  must  join  to  wake,  xi.  470. 

—  Ben   Jonson :    Golden    Age    Re 
stored. 

They  come  in  dim  procession  led,  x. 

10.—  Scott :  Lady  of  the  Lake,  I. 
This  coat,   etc.,   viii.   87. —  Herbert: 

Church  Porch. 
Thou    art    not    gone,    etc.,    ii.    167- 

Donne  :  Epithalamion. 
Tho'  fallen  on  evil  days,  viii.  50.— 

Milton :  Paradise  Lost. 
Tho'  love  repine,  etc.,  x.  98.  —  R.  W. 

Emerson,  Poems,  ix.  243.  ^ 

Thy  lot  or  portion  of  life,  etc.,  ii.  86. 

Sentences  of  Ali,  —  Ockley's  Sara 
cens. 
Time    drinketh  up  the    essence,  xi. 

288.  —  Vishnoo  Sarma. 
To  obtain  them,  etc.,  vii.  18.— Bacon  : 

Of  Ceremonies. 
To  tread  the  floors  of  hell,  viii.  220.  — 

Pindar,  quoted  in  Plutarch's  Morals. 

Unless  above  himself,  etc.,  vii.  33.  — 
Samuel  Daniel  :  To  Countess  of 
Cumberland. 

Vich  Ian  Vohr,  iii.  130.  — Scott: 
Wav  erley. 

We  who  speak  the  tongue,  etc.,  viii. 
70.  — Wordsworth:  Sonnets  to  Lib 
erty. 

What  may  this  mean?  iv.  197.— 
Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  i.  4. 

What,  old  mole,  etc.,  ii.  337.  —  Shake 
speare  :  Hamlet,  i.  v. 

When  each  the  other  shall  avoid,  iii. 
110.— R.  W.  Emerson  :  Celestial 
Love. 

When  Omar  prayed,  x.  102.—  Original. 

Why  do  you  speak,  etc.,  iv.  130.— 
Plutarch :  Lycurgus. 

Winds  blow,  etc.,  ii.  112. —Words 
worth  :  Sonnets  to  Liberty.  —  "  In 
land,  within  a  hollow  vale." 

With  their  stony  eyes,  etc.,  xii.  267. 

Zeus  hates  busy-bodies,  vii.  293.  — 
Euripides  :  Fragment  of  Philoctetes. 
See  Aristotle's  Ethics  (Bohn,  164). 


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